


Talk To Me

by 1004_Angel



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Don't Try This At Home, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm a tease I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Identity Angst, Identity Issues, Oblivious Adrien, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Identity, Short Chapters, Slightly Aged up, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, maybe? - Freeform, phone call au, so they're like 16?, stranger danger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6391780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1004_Angel/pseuds/1004_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Character A couldn't sleep and decided to call Character B. But instead miss-dialed the number by two, and ends up talking to Character C, a complete stranger. But Character A doesn't know this until an hour into the conversation when they call them by Character B's name. And Character C finally speaks up to say Character A has the wrong number. Character A becomes embarrassed and hangs up the phone. But not before saving Character C's number. Because you never know when you need to talk to a stranger again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a prompt requested on tumblr, I've had varying ideas to continue this into something to update while people wait for Gravity! So here it is...

“Hello?”

“Talk to me.”

Marinette rolled onto her stomach, her phone balanced casually against her face as she lay against the pillows. It was almost one in the morning, and she had long ago accepted that she was not going to be able to sleep tonight. Hours of tossing and turning could confirm that. So with a heavy sigh she dragged her phone off her charger and punched in what she knew was Alya’s number.

The reporter didn’t answer. In hindsight, she probably wouldn’t have. She’d been working her butt off on their latest assignment, and had probably crashed hard. So Marinette worked through the remaining numbers on her mental list, until finally, Nathanael - sweet, shy Nathanael - picked up.

“Um…”

“I know it’s almost one in the morning but I can’t sleep and I know you,” Marinette practically begged, rolling over to her other side. “Just, I dunno, talk to me until I fall asleep.”

“I, uh…” he coughs, and a rustle indicates he had made himself comfortable. “Sure, I guess. What do you want to talk about?”

* * *

Adrien wasn’t sure how he’d managed to wind up on the phone with a stranger at this hour. But he was glad. The girl on the other end of the line was witty, slightly sarcastic, and utterly fearless. Adrien, as he lies down fully clothed on his comforter, imagined a pretty girl, maybe with long brown hair and brown eyes… or maybe blue. She sounded like someone who would have blue eyes.

“Oh please. Deadpool could totally kick Spiderman’s ass.”

“And what’s your evidence?”

Adrien can’t bring himself to tell this girl that he’s not who she thinks she’s dialed. He figured that he needs it just as much as she does. He couldn't say exactly why.

They flow easily from one topic to the next. From what he can deduce from her side of the conversation, the girl is a student, maybe about the same age as him. She asked her parents for a pet hamster the other day. And that she could totally kick his ass at Ultimate Mecha Strike III if she wanted to, which, if only a voice was any indication, he had not doubt she could.

“How is your sketching going? I know you started a superhero comic, and it’s pretty popular online.”

“Oh, um…”

Adrien grimaced. She had backed him into a corner. A quick glance at the clock displayed a flashing 2:15am at him, and he figured that this was as good a time as any to finally let the cat out of the bag. He couldn’t pretend to answer questions like that, to pretend to be someone who he was not. As much as he enjoyed talking to this girl.

“Nathanael?”

* * *

Marinette yawned into the phone. It was almost two thirty am, and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. She could tell the time was getting away from Nathanael, too, because as they talked about nothing and everything, she could hear the lull in his voice, the sleep overwhelming him. He hadn’t spoken in a minute…

“Nathanael? Did you fall asleep?”

“Uh… I’m… actually… um, not Nathanael. You have the wrong number.”

Marinette froze, sleep suddenly banished from her mind as she sat bolt upright. She wrenched the phone from her ear and stared with shaking hands at the number that lit up the screen, tracing each digit until the final two.

_Nathanael is 3458. This says 3469._

“Hello?” said Not-Nathanael, his voice a little anxious through the receiver. “I’m sorry that I deceived you, but it sounded like you needed someone to talk to, and-”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, I mean…” Marinette fumbled over her words. “I suppose I was pretty lucky that you were awake! I mean, no wait, I’m sorry I kept you awake for a while, and I totally didn’t mean to, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ll just hang up now…”

“Wa-!”

_Click._

* * *

Adrien stared at the wall, the monotonous drone of the dropped line ringing in his ears. She hung up on him.

He cracked a tiny grin. She was witty, slightly sarcastic, _and_ a little cute. He quickly banished that thought, however. _You don’t know who that was,_ Adrien reminded himself, turning over on his side to kill the bedside lamp and plunge his room into darkness. _You can’t go calling random people cute._

Still, as Adrien lay in the dark with his phone screen illuminating his face, it wouldn’t hurt. He hadn’t had a conversation like that in what felt like years. Talking to a stranger, a stranger who let him ramble for a while about why David Tennant was a better Doctor than Barty Crouch Jr., a stranger who in turn ranted about her computer malfunctioning in the middle of a big project.

It was a free conversation. Like a mask, he wore it and could say however he felt, and talk about whatever he wanted. With a stranger he could be free of the bonds that chain him to his father, be free of the unforgiving stare of the camera lens, the merciless tabloid articles. He could be... himself. Someone far beyond Adrien Agreste, model superstar and son of fashion extraordinaire Gabriel Agreste.

A stranger like that, maybe, would be worth calling again?

Against Adrien’s better judgement, he saved the girl’s number. _Lucky, huh?_  he thought with a half smile, and saved her number with a Ladybug emoji.

* * *

Marinette shook, her heart pounding against her ribs. She had just talked to a stranger for over an hour. The knowledge of that simple fact pounded against her brain. She ran over their conversation mentally, praying to god she didn’t give away anything too incriminating about her identity. She mentioned school, but he couldn’t possibly know which school she meant, right?

Maybe she should start carrying around pepper spray, just in case.

But he had been thoughtful, Marinette slowly reasoned with herself. He didn’t ask her personal questions, didn’t mention anything about himself… from the sound of his voice he couldn’t be much older than her. Marinette continued to stare at the number in her call history.

What if she… kept it? Marinette wanted to disregard the idea. But it had felt so nice to talk to someone about anything, without the fear of being judged. She had known that whatever nonsense dropped out of her mouth at one thirty in the morning wouldn’t bother Nathanael a bit, but it hadn’t seemed to bother the stranger, either. Would it be all that bad to have someone to talk to?

Not that Alya wasn’t a good friend, but the future reporter was a bit of a loud mouth, and had a bit of a habit for not being able to keep a secret for long. But this stranger didn’t know anything about her, and she didn’t know anything about him. There was no one he could tell about the weird girl who calls him on the phone, and who was she going to tell about him?

Marinette carefully reached for her phone where it sat by her foot, tapping the screen and opening up a new contact. She hesitated before typing.

 _Stranger_ was too obvious. If her parents ever got a hold of her phone… ugh. Or, heavens forbid, Alya. _Think, Marinette._

She recalled at one point in their conversation, he had mentioned wanting to adopt a cat.

With shaking fingers, Marinette scrolled through the emoji selection until she found the one she was looking for. Tap tap, and now the stranger’s number was identified with a smiling cat face.

Marinette still couldn’t say if her decision was the right one, as she plugged her phone back in and turned off her lamp, the dregs of sleep overcoming her weary body once more. Because one would never know when they would need to call a stranger again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can see we're thinkin' bout the same things  
> And I can see your expression when the phone rings  
> We both know there's something happening here  
> Well, there's no sense in dancing round the subject
> 
> \- Stevie Nicks, "Talk To Me"

Adrien slammed the door to his room with excessive force, hoping the loud _boom_ carried through the echoic halls into his father’s study. He fell face first into his bedspreads, screaming out loud into the comforter to release his stress. He yelled in frustration until his throat ached, pounded his pillows until his fists turned red, and lay on his back in the middle of the room, back pressed against the hard floor as he stared at the ceiling and tried to get his breathing under control. The shadows lengthened across his body as the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon.

He was overreacting, and he knew it. But his emotional state was not without cause, for once again his request to attend public school like all the other kids his age had been rejected, quite harshly.

 _You have all that you need here,_ his “father” had told him, not looking up from whatever he was doing. _You don’t need those sort of people to taint your mind._

Those sort, Adrien recalled with a grimace. There are no _sorts_ of people in Adrien’s world, there are only people. And Adrien currently resided among the ethereal, and yet not for a second did he consider himself one of them. He was almost a legal adult, there was no way his father could chain him down with golden chains forever. This halo glued to his head was slowly coming loose.

He dug his phone from his pocket, thumbing through his contacts absently. He needed someone to vent at. He couldn’t keep this emotion contained to himself, it simply would fester within him until he burst and did something he would regret.

He wasn’t close enough with the other models to consider them worthy enough to hear of his frustration. They, who had all worked hard to get to their position, would only see him as a rich boy and his first world problems. None of the people in his other activities were options either, as they consisted mostly of tutors (besides Nathalie, who, bless her heart, couldn’t teach him everything), instructors, and other essential personnel.

That is, until he reached the very bottom of the list, the innocent ladybug emoji hidden beneath the seemingly never-ending list of phone numbers.

Would the strange girl listen? Would she even answer the phone? Adrien’s thumb hovered over the dial button. Part of him wanted to call. He needed someone to listen, someone beyond the stuffy prison cell of his home. The girl had seemed so genuine, so sociable, so _real_ beyond the suffocating walls that talking to her had been a breath of fresh air. Even when she hung up on him.

Holding his breath, Adrien dialed her number.

* * *

Marinette had had a shitty day. Clumsy as ever, she had managed to oversleep, break a cup, forget to eat breakfast, sprint all the way to school just in time for the bell only to realize she had left her homework at home. Chloe had not helped, making snide comments about the designer’s disheveled appearance and lack of coordination. Marinette stewed but didn’t let the mayor’s daughter get to her. Alya rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She was still jumpy about her conversation with the stranger that had taken place a couple days before. She carried a can of mace and a whistle in her bag just in case, but from where she stood no creepy men in hoodies loitered outside the school gates. It didn’t ease her nerves when a person she wasn’t immediately familiar with stared at her for maybe a second too long for comfort. Luckily nothing had happened yet but she was still cautious.

Marinette sighed and collapsed face first into her chaise, not bothering to turn the lights on in the room. She lett her backpack slide unceremoniously to the floor with a clunk. She needed a shower, she needed food, she needed sleep, she needed…

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket. With a groan, Marinette resituated herself on the chaise to dig her phone from the depths of her jeans. “Alyaaaaaa….” She muttered, squinting at the bright screen in the darkness. Whatever she had been expecting was not this.

She did not expect a smiling cat emoji to illuminate her phone.

Suddenly wide awake, Marinette dropped the device and scurried back against the headboard of the chaise, the phone continuing to vibrate against the cushion. The stranger was _calling her. CALLING HER._

Marinette tried to calm down. Was he calling because he figured out where she went to school and wanted to kidnap her? Oh god, what if he knew who she was and was going to threaten her? Or what if he just wanted… to talk? Like her? After all, she had saved his number. It was only natural that she assumed that he had deleted her number after admitting to her misdial, but this was straight evidence that he had the same idea as her.

Whether this was a good or bad thing Marinette didn’t know, but something compelled her to finally retrieve the device and accept the call.

“Hello?”

* * *

Adrien was about to cancel the call when the dial tone dropped and was replaced with a cautious, “Hello?”

“Hello?” Adrien asked, almost too eagerly, sitting up sharply and rubbing the back of his neck. He actually hadn’t thought this far yet; it was a miracle in and of itself that she had answered, and now that she had, Adrien wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to explain why he had saved a stranger’s number.

“Hello…” she said, drawing out the syllables cautiously.

“Look,” Adrien finally broke the pattern. “I’m sorry I saved your number. Really. But I just need someone to talk to. Sometimes. You know? And I thought… if you would be willing to listen… I’d listen to you, too…”

The girl breathed heavily outward. “I… um, thought the same,” she admitted, almost sheepishly.

“Really?” Adrien released his own huge breath, allowing a smile to curve his features as some of his frustration ebbed away. She thought the same! “Great. So, um… can I vent for a second?”

The girl was silent for a moment before speaking. “Sure, if you let me vent, too.”

Adrien accepted the invitation. He began talking, talking, talking. He talked until his voice became hoarse, anger welling up again in his chest the more he spoke, the more he recalled the heated discussion with his father. He kept details rather vague, to protect himself but also not overload his new friend. He didn’t mention his homeschooling, or his career, or even who his father was, but that was only the tip of the iceberg, and Adrien still had plenty more to say.

When he finished, it was as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. He felt lighter, less tense. He had stood up at one point during his rant and paced the room, and now he moved to relax on his white couch as the girl commented on his sucky luck.

“No kidding,” Adrien huffed. “I’m as lucky as a black cat.”

The girl laughed. “That’s kind of funny, because I saved your number with a cat emoji.”

“Really?”

* * *

Marinette listened to the boy talk. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try and calm him down. She just let him go on. Whether he didn’t mention the exact reason his father had yelled at him on purpose or not, she was still attentive. From what she could gather, the boy had been asking his father something for a long time, and when he had brought it up again today, his father had been particularly harsh in turning him down. Marinette couldn’t empathize really; she had never had a fight like that with her own father.

He finally finished, and Marinette detected the lighthearted tone that came with having expelled a myriad of thoughts and emotions. She was glad she was able to help.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, making herself more comfortable in her desk chair. “You mentioned wanting a cat, so I guess…”

“That makes sense. I marked your contact with a ladybug emoji, since you said it was lucky you called…”

Marinette wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or what. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So do you want to rant now, or…?”

“No, actually I feel kinda better now,” she admitted. “I guess listening to you made me calmer.”

The boy snorted. “Glad I could help. Thanks for listening, by the way. I don’t have anyone else to talk to, really…”

Marinette started. “You… don’t?”

The boy breathed loudly. “Yeah, I guess it just… I dunno. It’s hard to explain without giving myself away. Oh!” his voice perked up a bit. “What’s your name?”

Marinette sucked in a breath. Oh _shit._ He wanted her _name._ She wasn’t ready for that! She still didn’t know if he was some kind of excessive stalker! It wasn’t like her name was particularly common; how many Marinette’s are there in Paris!?

“Um, I’d rather not,” Marinette said tentatively. “For all I know, you’re a stalker or something.”

The boy let out a cheery laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Don’t worry, I won’t push. What should I call you, then?”

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t pushy, he was respectful of her wish and didn’t demand anything from her. The least she could do was give him something to call her by.

“You said you marked my number with a ladybug emoji, right? Just call me Ladybug.” 

* * *

“Call me Ladybug.”

“Ladybug,” Adrien repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. “I like it. Ladybug.”

“So what should I call you, then?” Ladybug asked.

Adrien was prepared for this question. “Well, emoji for emoji? Chat Noir, at your service!”

Ladybug’s laugh was a quiet jingle. “Chat Noir, huh? Okay, then, Chat. I actually have to go now, so I guess… talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien said, not quite truthfully. He wanted to keep talking, but he supposed that since she mentioned talking again later… that it wouldn’t be the last time they communicate.

“Okay then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And Ladybug – thanks for listening. It meant a lot.”

He could sense her smile through the receiver. “No problem. Night.”

“Night.”

Adrien let the dead phone drop to his side. He let his head fall against the back of the couch, a happy smile on his face. He’d made a friend, a friend who was listening to him, trying their best to ease his frustration instead of just brushing it off as the unimportant roller coaster of teenage emotions. The sheer reality of it made his heart pound in his chest. A part of him wondered how much about himself he could open up about, how much she preferred to keep secret. She wouldn’t even tell him her name.

But, Adrien supposed, that was the most exciting thing about it all. This was beyond anonymous pen pal. Adrien didn’t know if a word existed to properly describe his new relationship with Ladybug. It was enigmatic, thrilling, and he felt as if he could _fly._ Maybe this hapless black cat was finally having a lucky turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @the-noble-idiot for updates and cute ML stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re afraid of falling, I’m afraid too.  
> It’s murder in the morning, I don’t want to be alone  
> so just pick up the phone and say hello."  
> \- Hedley, "Hello"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your overwhelming support. I never thought a little drabble would get so much love. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and as a gift, here's the next part! Cross-posted on tumblr @the-noble-idiot

Marinette was having boy troubles.

Nathanael had pulled her aside after school let out that day… and… well…

“He said he likes me, like, _like-likes_ me,” Marinette wailed into the phone, one arm thrown across her eyes to shield herself from the world. She felt so compressed against the walls of her bedroom, the weight of her newfound knowledge weighing heavily on her thoughts. “I don’t know how to deal with this!”

“Well, how do you feel?”

“I mean, he’s a friend, and he’s nice, quiet, creative, I guess. And he’s not exactly bad-looking, it’s just…”

“You don’t like him that way?”

“Exactly! But I can’t just say no, because that’s mean and it’ll hurt him and I don’t want to hurt him, but I also don’t want to say yes! _What do I do!?”_

Chat Noir was silent as he mulled over her situation. He had been all too eager to find a distraction from whatever part-time job he partook in; apparently his co-workers were not very accommodating to his schedule, and he was on his first break since lunch, and it was nearing five o’clock. He hadn’t picked up the phone the first couple times she had called.

Which had led her to calling Alya for advice. Alya, in all her Alya-ness, suggested that she get her feet wet in the dating pool and date Nathanael for a while and see how it went. The journalist's advice ( _“You should probably have a boyfriend by now, like, live a little! Make out, break some hearts, move on!”)_ was not exactly Marinette’s area of expertise.

When Chat had finally picked up, she’d immediately launched into a long tirade about the event with barely even a “Hello”, describing Nathanael’s confession in detail (though she changed Nathanael’s name to Danny. Could never be too careful). Chat knew every word passed between them, even how Nathanael had stood with his back to the brick wall, hands crossed over his sketchpad as he clutched it to his chest. The redheaded boy hadn’t been able to look her in the eye, preferring comfort in his shoelaces as his face turned as red as his hair.

“I don’t expect an answer right away,” he had said to break her aghast silence before practically sprinting away, leaving Marinette standing shell-shocked and staring at the place he had just been standing.

“Well,” Chat finally came to a decision. “You should just turn him down.”

* * *

 

“You should just turn him down.”

Adrien adjusted his position in his chair, relishing the short time he had to spend in Ladybug’s electronic company. It had been a particularly rigorous couple hours in front of the camera, with strange poses that made his neck ache and jeans that stretched a little too tight for his taste. It was a beautiful day for a photo shoot, and the park was beautiful at this time of day, but Adrien was slowing being sucked dry. There were only so many times he could imagine his mother’s spaghetti before he wanted to collapse. So it had been a shot of adrenaline in his tired body to see not one, but two missed calls from Ladybug once he had finally wheedled in a break, and a secondary shot of energy when his phone began to vibrate with her icon again.

“Turn him down?”

“Yeah. I’m a love expert, so therefore my advice is infallible.”

“Oh yeah? Okay then, Mr. Love Expert, how exactly do I do that?”

Adrien couldn’t suppress his smile. Ladybug had quickly grown comfortable with him; she was no longer the stammering and nervous girl she had been once she discovered she had the wrong number. Though she was still cautious of her identity; he didn’t doubt that “Danny” was a pseudonym for the courageous boy that had confessed. Still, Adrien thought as he mulled over the best way to turn someone down (god knows how many times he’s done it), he was glad she had warmed up to him. They talked as if they had known each other forever; they shared a kind of relationship that he and Chloe could never hope to have.

“Honestly, the best way is to be firm but gentle,” Adrien advised. “Acknowledge his feelings, thank him, and just tell him straight that you don’t return the affection. It’s going to be awkward, but honesty is the best policy here. With any luck, he'll accept your rejection and move on.”

Ladybug weighed his answer. Something on her end creaked; Adrien assumed it was her bed. “Be honest, huh. I dunno, I just feel so guilty…”

“Maybe,” Adrien consoled. He drew on his experience turning down fangirls. It was at least a bi-weekly occurrence, whenever he made a public appearance. There were tears, there were shoulder pats, and there was moving on. He did his best to let them down easily, and results varied, but in Adrien’s experience it was best to just do it. “Maybe you do feel guilty. And he’ll be embarrassed, you’ll be embarrassed, but it’s a conversation you need to have. Otherwise you’re just leading him on, and that’s never good.”

* * *

 

“Otherwise you’re just leading him on, and that’s never good.”

Marinette hadn’t thought about it like that. She sat straighter on the bench in the park. She had abandoned her stuffy room for the fresh air, and the clear head allowed her to reasonably listen to Chat Noir’s advice.

A father and his child played on the swing set. Across the park, a large buff man, looking almost ape-like, stood near a taller thin man in suspenders wielding a camera and adjusting different light canvases. The ape man stood protectively over a person sitting in a chair with their back facing her, talking animatedly into a phone, blonde hair rustling as a cool breeze swept through the trees. A mother walked her dog along the perimeter of the fence. It was such a tranquil scene, it made Marinette smile.  _I love Paris._

“That’s actually really good advice,” the designer commented. She couldn’t fathom the notion that anyone really thought about her – clumsy, quiet, and not-as-pretty-as-some Marinette – in that kind of way, and therefore had no idea how to deal with the situation. She was grateful for Chat’s input, and figured an unbiased opinion on the matter was actually an immense help.

“If only you knew,” Chat Noir chortled, and Marinette could sense the smugness on his face. She had only been talking to him for a couple weeks, and she already had a grasp on his personality; timid at first, but quickly opened up to reveal his suave and quite outgoing nature. She imagined a dark haired and dark eyed late-teen, reclining in a break room chair, legs propped up on the table as he gloated.

“Oh, Chat Noir’s a heartbreaker,” Marinette laughed, leaning back against the bench.

“Untrue!” Chat opposed, huffing indignantly. “You know you’re the only one for me!”

Oh, yeah. He’d also started flirting with her.

She had been adverse to it, at first. This strange guy, whose face, name, age, and occupation she didn’t know, subtly flirting and making light passes. It freaked her out, but now it was simply a personality quirk. He probably flirted with every girl he talked to, stranger or no. Chat Noir, resident mystery playboy.

“Oh please,” Marinette groaned, but was somewhat pleased to know that he was unaware of the small smile on her face. “Don’t make me use your own advice against you.”

“The ultimate betrayal.”

Marinette giggled again, and he chuckled along as well.

“But seriously, Ladybug,” Chat regained his composure. “Acknowledge his feelings, but don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

Marinette breathed through her nose, feeling significantly better than when she had first called. “Thanks, Chat.”

* * *

 “Thanks, Chat.”

Adrien smiled, memorizing he way his fake name rolled off her tongue. “No problem, My Lady.”

She groaned on the other line. “Seriously?”

Adrien liked the pet name. It made him feel even a little bit closer to the mysterious girl. He wanted to call her his friend. It was a much better sounding word than _acquaintance,_ and he felt at this point they were beyond the status of _stranger._ He couldn’t deny the light fluttering in his chest whenever they conversed, and he hesitated to call it a crush _._

 _You’ve only heard her voice,_ his rational side reasoned. _You don’t know anything about her._

It didn’t matter, Adrien told himself. He had finally found himself a person with whom he could connect, and he was probably growing a sort of dependent kind of affection for her. He figured it wasn’t a quote-un-quote _real_ feeling. But he still couldn’t help the leap in his chest whenever he thought about her, of her voice, her laugh. He wanted to know so much, but respectfully refrained from asking personal questions. It was a struggle. But Adrien Agreste was a gentleman first and foremost, and that meant not imposing on a girl’s right to privacy.

“Of course,” Adrien grinned, and hopped from his chair when he caught Natalie gesturing at him that break was over. “My break is over; I’ve got to get going.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “I guess we’ll talk later, then?”

“Sure,” Adrien agreed readily. Natalie sliced a firm hand across her neck. _Get off the phone._

“Thanks again for the advice, Chat.”

“My pleasure. Let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Who was that?” Natalie questioned immediately, her piercing eyes and downturned lips making a very condescending picture.

“A friend,” Adrien said nonchalantly, struggling to ignore the pleasant warmth flickering in his chest at the word, and tucked his phone into his pocket. “What’s next?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're so close but far away. I call you up all night and day. I give you my affection and I give you my time, trying to get a connection on the telephone line."  
> Kraftwerk, "The Telephone Call"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want you all to know I'm making these up as I go, so we're in this journey together!
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your support; you have no idea how much I smile when I read your wonderful comments! It keeps me going!
> 
> Tumblr: @the-noble-idiot

 Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about Ladybug. She got him through Natalie’s endless drawl, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears and drowning out the history of whomever. In the short months they had communicated, Ladybug had consumed whatever small part of Adrien there was left. He lived and breathed for their conversations that lead nowhere and revealed little.

She had opened up considerably in comparison to their first talk, enough to the point where she felt comfortable to reveal she had short dark hair and blue eyes. He congratulated his imagination in correctly guessing her eye color. She had a friend who was nosy but supportive. Adrien couldn’t help but be a little jealous that she had someone to actively talk to. She also revealed that she liked to draw, and wanted to be a fashion designer.

It took all of Adrien’s willpower not to out himself right there as the son of one of the world’s leading fashion designers. Instead he encouraged her to pursue her dream, and made a mental note to approach anyone with dark hair and blue eyes that appeared at one of his father’s events. Thus far his search had revealed nothing, but Adrien refused to give up.

“You should show me some of your designs sometime,” he suggested, speaking quietly into the phone so as to not distract the Gorilla from his driving. It was about mid-afternoon, coming back from his piano lesson. He had the rest of the day off, and had decided to spend it with Ladybug. He marveled at how far into his life she had wormed her way into his schedule; every spare moment he looked for a phone call. Though it had taken a couple of rings, she had finally accepted his call, sounding a little breathless on the other line, but he hadn’t questioned it. “I happen to know a little about design myself.”

“Really, now?” Her smirk was audible in her tone. “I might just have to quiz you.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, a smirk of his own curling his lips.

“Yeah. I’ll write up a test and everything.”

“How do you know I won’t look up the answers on the Internet?”

“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“A horrible idea, really.”

Their banter continued like this. Adrien didn’t fail to notice that she didn’t address his open invitation to meet in person. He had expected it, though. Adrien had been toying with the idea for days, how to ask her if she wanted to meet in person. He knew she lived in Paris, according to the area code, so it wasn’t completely _impossible_ to meet… but he refrained. If she wanted to meet, then she would tell him.

* * *

 

“A horrible idea, really.”

Marinette purposefully dodged his obvious invitation to meet. Whether he didn’t notice, or he did and had decided not to mention it, Marinette didn’t question. It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to meet him, to see in person what this boy looked like in real life. He was a charming person, and even if the lingering fear of _serial killer_ was still floating in the back of her subconscious, Marinette was still drunk on the anonymity of their conversations, and finally revealing their identities to each other would somehow shatter the illusion she had constructed for herself. An illusion that, she knew, would one day shatter. They would run into each other on the street. He would walk into the bakery. He’s actually her long-lost cousin from her father’s side twice removed and he comes to the next family reunion. So what was the big deal about duct taping their anonymous relationship together for just a little bit longer?

He had blonde hair and green eyes. Marinette mulled over the description, her previous image of dark hair and dark eyes taking a swan dive out the window. She found that she liked the brighter colors; it broke the bad-boy image she had, and pleasantly gave her more pleasant things to think about when it came to Chat Noir. She found herself glancing at every blonde-haired green-eyed person on the street.

“Ladybug?”

Marinette realized she hadn’t said anything for a minute. “Oh, sorry. Was thinking about something.”

“What’cha thinking about?”

“The inevitability of death and how small and insignificant humans are in the face of the universe,” Marinette said dramatically.

“Ha-ha,” Chat replied. “My Lady, you are far from insignificant. I’m _paw_ sitive you put the very sun to shame!”

“Again with the puns.”

“Always with the puns.”

Marinette shook her head and allowed a smile to play at her lips. She hated puns. Her father used them incessantly, and she had grown to abhor them. Yet, Chat Noir’s were endearing, and she tolerated them simply because it was impossible to reach through phones and smack people. Chat Noir was a flirtatious, egotistical, punny nuisance in her life, and she cherished every moment with him. He was a friend that she could confide in.

Her mother’s voice called up the stairs into her room, calling her downstairs.

“I have to go now; you’re not the only one with a part-time job.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Where do you work? I’ll come visit.”

“None-ya business.”

“Me-ouch. I’ll be wearing a black shirt and white jacket. Keep an eye out for the ruggedly handsome guy.”

“Keep your rugged handsomeness to yourself, tomcat,” Marinette teased, and finished tying the apron around her waist. It was Saturday, a popular day at the bakery, and her parents had asked her to pitch in behind the scenes. She wasn’t complaining; working the front register was a pain, especially on busy weekends. “Talk to you later, Chat.”

* * *

 

“Talk to you later, Chat.”

_Click._

Adrien replaced his phone back into his pocket, returning to staring aimlessly out the window, dopey grin intact _._ She had a part time job, also. He subtly wondered how long it would take to visit every place of business in Paris during every shift to try and spot the dark haired girl that had seized his heart. _Tomcat._

It was stupid. You can’t fall in love with someone you’ve never met. And yet, Adrien was positive that the pounding on his chest wasn’t a dependent love felt by ducklings imprinting on surrogate mothers. The heat that flared in his chest when she said his (fake) name, the sound of her laugh, slightly distorted by questionable audio connection but still as clear as giggling fairies. Her fierce and heave-ho attitude, so unlike his own natural submissive nature, made his blood burn. The fire beneath his skin and in his chest was in no way, shape, or form, a fake kind of love.

Adrien rolled down the window, letting the wind into his face and hair in a half-hearted attempt to quench the fire in his heart. It did very little.

The car pulled to a stop at a light. Adrien realized they were near the school that he wanted so desperately to attend. It was a Saturday, so there would be no students there now. Around the corner, a he spotted a bakery nestled into the corner street, black awning adorned with golden calligraphic lettering: _Dupain-Cheng Bakery._ He could see a crowd of people inside, bustling about and could detect the faint scent of warm bread drifting through slightly open windows that made Adrien’s mouth water.

The fresh scent of his dietician’s worst nightmare was almost hypnotic, and Adrien found himself throwing open the car door and putting the rubber soles of his converse to the sidewalk as he gave in to the temptations. Something was drawing him toward the small confectionary, diet be damned.

The warm scent was even stronger when he pushed his way into the packed bakery. Shelves upon shelves of the ambrosia of the gods glittered in their cases, enticingly calling his name. Multi-colored macaroons, chocolate-coated éclairs, strawberry and mango tarts, and even the golden browns of croissants drew his attention. Adrien decided that giving in to the temptation was a bad decision on his part. He had better self-control than this!

 _Lol, nope,_ said the row of fresh _Mille-feuille_ and marzipan _Coussin de Lyon._

“I’ll be right with you!” A pretty Chinese woman with raven hair and grey eyes worked the counter and smiled when the bell above the door signaled his arrival among the clamor of customers.

He smiled pleasantly back and continued to browse the displays. He shouldn’t buy anything. His dietician would kill him.

"Marinette! How's that next batch of _Gougère_ coming?" The Chinese woman behind the counter called over the din of voices, a call that Adrien only heard because he had navigated closer to the counter to better see a tray of _Petit four._

A strong hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder, and Adrien didn't even have to look to know his Gorilla had found him. "Don't tell Father," he said with dejected sigh, and allowed his bodyguard to escort him from the confectionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually looks up the address of the nearest French bakery*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jenny, Jenny, you're the girl for me  
> Oh, you don't know me, but you make me so happy  
> I tried to call you before, but I lost my nerve"
> 
> Tommy Tutone, "867-5309/Jenny"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, everyone! I am blown away by the amount of response this has gotten, both on here and Tumblr. You are all wonderful, beautiful people and I appreciate your support. ;)
> 
> It’s been a rough couple of days, but luckily I’ve found some time today to crank this out, as an early birthday present to myself. ;) I hope you all enjoy, I already have the next chapter half-written, haha. It’s a good one.
> 
> Cross-posted on tumblr @the-noble-idiot

 

_“ACHOO!”_

Marinette held the phone at arms length and snatched a tissue just in time to let out a thundering sneeze that wracked her entire body. Her limbs felt so heavy, and she barely had the energy to hold the phone to her ear. Her nose was red and raw from constant rubbing, and it couldn’t seem to decide whether to close the dam and suffocate her, or open the doors for a seemingly endless stream of snot to flow free. All in all, Marinette felt like the embodiment of death.

“Bless you,” Chat said, his voice like a gunshot into her pounding skull.

“'Tanks,” Marinette mumbled, tossing the used tissue among its discarded brethren that littered the area around her bed. “I hate being sick.”

“I hate that you’re sick,” Chat consoled.

Marinette had woken up that morning with a pounding headache, stuffed nose, and watery eyes. It was clear from the half-dead expression on her face that she wasn’t going anywhere that day. A quick call to Alya had promised the journalist to bring her missed work by after class. Luckily, Chat was ready to keep her company until Alya arrived.

He had actually called her first, asking for her opinion on something she couldn’t recall. The second she had admitted she was laid up with a cold, however, he’d immediately switched gears from curious inquirer to her own personal invisible nurse. He peppered her with questions, asking if she had taken medicine, was comfortable, and even asked where she was so he could bring her chicken noodle soup.

“Yeah, cause my parents are definitely going to let a complete stranger into their daughter’s room,” Marinette said sarcastically.

“Do you have a balcony?”

“Yes…?”

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

“Really?”

“Or if you prefer, I do have the entire _Romeo and Juliet_ balcony scene memorized.”

_“Ugh.”_

* * *

_“Ugh.”_

Adrien suppressed a smile. He decided this was a much more interesting conversation than asking where he should eat lunch that day. Nathalie had allowed him to pick his own lunch (within reason) today, as a special treat for placing first in his most recent fencing competition. Not that first place wasn’t new or anything, but Adrien didn’t complain. He still had Gorilla on his tail, but he was allowed a semblance of freedom under his father's radar, and he would take advantage of it.

“You do realize that Romeo and Juliet died, though, and Romeo was at least six years older than Juliet?”

“Details.”

Ladybug snorted, or at least tried to; it was more like an elephant coughing. “Hey, Chat?”

“Hm?”

Adrien looked up into the small sandwich shop, decided quickly on it, and pushed his way inside with a small tinkle.

“Can you tell me a story?”

“A story? Hold on a sec…”

Adrien placed his order (after extended time double checking calories and other health-related things), paid, and retreated to a corner table near the window, able to see out into the bustling street outside. Maybe, just for today, Adrien could pretend he was just a normal kid, hanging out in his favorite sandwich shop and talking to his best – maybe only _real_ – friend.

“What kind of story?” he asked.

“Anything. I’m too tired to talk.”

Adrien tapped a finger against his chin, running through the short stories his mother had used to tell him as a child. The memories made him sad a little as he remembered his mother, but he quickly shook the feelings away. Ladybug needed him. _Hmmmm…._

“Sure, I got one.”

“What’s it called?”

_“The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”_

* * *

 

“ _The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”_

“What? That’s so cheesy.”

Marinette pulled her cat pillow closer, curling her body around it and tucking her comforter up over her shoulder and under her chin until only her face was visible from beneath the mountain of blankets her mother had provided. Her phone balanced precariously on her face, eyes half closed and a half smile across her features.

“It totally is not! This is the story about how two superheroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir, save Paris from evil doers!”

Marinette settled deeper into her mattress as Chat began to talk. He introduced the characters: Ladybug, the girl with a love for fashion who transforms, with the help of her familiar, into the superhero Ladybug whenever there’s trouble. Then there was Chat Noir, Ladybug’s trusty partner, a lonely boy who loves bonding with his own familiar to become a superhero. They didn’t know who each other were in real life, but they were the best of friends, and told each other everything.

Marinette smiled through her exhaustion as Chat’s story progressed. He seemed to be making it up as he went, since he repeated a few things or back tracking a little, but the soft lull of his voice was music to her ears, and soon Marinette was engrossed in the story of the two superheroes. Together they fought people possessed and controlled by their anger. One villain tried to overrun the entire city with pigeons. Another was a girl who controlled the weather.

“Then Ladybug said, ‘You have her smile,’ at the exact same time the boy did,” Chat murmured, his voice becoming dry from the amount of talking he had been doing. “They both blushed and looked away, but the boy looked at her out of the corner of his eye.”

“Lovesick dork,” Marinette laughed sleepily.

Chat chuckled. “You have no idea.”

* * *

 

“You have no idea.”

Adrien swallowed the last of his sandwich and examined his fingernails, fighting the pressure in his chest.

Thank god he hadn’t mentioned the boy in his story was actually Chat’s alter ego, aka himself. Ladybug caught on that the story was a fantastical version of their interactions, so Adrien purposefully left out the very thing he wanted his story self to admit out loud. The words were sitting in the back of his throat, choking him, wanting to escape his mouth in an endless word vomit until he embarrassed himself to the end of the earth.

He distracted himself by starting on the next story, based on the gaming tournament that had been a couple weeks ago. Ladybug had wanted to participate, but some other guys in her class were pulling the “fake gamer girl” card and wouldn’t let her play. Adrien added “gamer” to his “Ladybug Facts List.”

“Then there was the time that–”

_“GGGGHHHHHH AAAAAAAA.”_

Adrien stuttered to a halt as an inhuman sound pierced the receiver. It took a hot second for him to realize that Ladybug had fallen asleep. _She snores,_ Adrien thought giddily.

“Goodnight, My Lady,” he whispered, and then before he could stop himself, “I love you.”

He cancelled the call. _Holy shit._ Had he actually just said that? Out loud? Adrien buried his fingers in his hair, the embarrassment making his chest feel tight and his mind doing somersaults in his head. She hadn’t heard it, of course, being asleep, but finally admitting it aloud, technically to her, lifted a burden he didn’t even realize he had been carrying from Adrien’s shoulders. He let out a heavy breath to ease his pounding heart.

Adrien sucked his teeth when he realized how low his phone battery had fallen during their conversation. He finished off the last of his drink to sooth his dry throat and left the shop, waving to where the Gorilla had parked on the street.

Ladybug called him later that night, if only to apologize profusely for falling asleep on him. Adrien laughed it off, promising her that he really didn’t mind it all, while simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t mention overhearing his confession.

“Thanks for doing that, Chat,” she said once she had finally decided that he was telling the truth. “My friend came by and dropped off my school work and made me some soup, so I’m feeling a little better now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

* * *

 

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Marinette pulled her knees closer to her chest, indeed feeling much less like the embodiment of death and more like she hadn’t showered in a month. Alya had arrived soon after school let out, rousing Marinette from her slumber. She had realized with a jolt her call with Chat had been disconnected, and that she must have fallen asleep on him. There was nothing she could do until Alya had left, the reporter having brought her mother’s famous cure-all soup and refusing to leave until Marinette had consumed every last drop.

“You should go back to sleep,” Chat encouraged. “There’s no better cure for sickness than a good night’s rest.”

“Yeah, but –“

“Don’t worry, bugaboo,” Chat audibly grinned. “This cat’s got everything in the bag.”

“Bugaboo? That’s new.”

“Do you prefer My Lady? Or what about Princess? Buginette? I have an arsenal at my disposal.”

“You’re lucky I don’t know where you live, Chat Noir, otherwise I’d go over there and kick your ass.”

“You know I would be more than happy to provide you with that information, Ladybug.”

Marinette sucked in a breath. _Crap._ She hadn’t meant to insinuate she wanted to know where he lived. “That’s for another day, kitty cat,” she deflected. “I think I’ll indulge myself in a little cat nap.”

Chat was silent for a moment, and Marinette was worried for a split second that she had some how turned him off by denying him. She knew how much he wanted to meet her; it was obvious in his small insinuations, hints, in his word choice. And she couldn’t deny that she didn’t feel some kind of pull towards him as well, it was just that she wasn’t ready to take that far of a step just yet.

“I’m rubbing off on you,” Chat finally laughed. The sound was a little strained, and Marinette probably wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t listening for it.

“Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Ladybug. Get well soon.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You stand all alone, on your own  
> Please come inside from that storm  
> Stand where it's warm  
> I can see, you're in need, baby, please talk to me now
> 
> -Anita Baker, "Talk To Me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t plan to post this so soon after Chapter 5 but I got excited and churned it out so here it is! I hope you all have been looking forward to this, because it’s a couple hundred words longer than usual!
> 
> As usual, thank you all so much for your unending support and love for this! I never thought that a tiny drabble would grow so large! You are wonderful, beautiful people that I cherish. <3

Marinette bit her lip, struggling against the pressure rising behind her eyes. She clutched her backpack to her chest, the losing design slowly crushed under the pressure. Weeks of her life spent hunched over her worktable, with the needle marks on her fingertips to prove it, had all been for nothing; she hadn’t even placed. Why did she think she had the skill to even come close to that winning design? Why did she even try?

The bus screeched to a halt, the doors breathing open to allow a passenger on board.

“Don’t cry, Marinette,” she told herself firmly, gulping down the lump in her throat. “Don’t cry. It’s not worth it, don’t cry…”

She dug her phone out from her purse, scrolling through her contacts. Chat knew about the design competition she had entered. Gabriel Agreste, her idol, hadn’t sponsored it; she wasn’t qualified for that huge competition just yet. The competition was held by a smaller company whose prize would have surely gotten her at least noticed by the much larger corporation. If Marinette couldn’t even place in an amateur competition, then how was she supposed to make it to the big leagues?

Chat didn’t answer the phone, the dial tone going straight to voicemail. In the year or so they had been talking, Marinette had deduced that he was someone of, for lack of better terms, higher class than she, and as such had a demanding schedule. She supposed it was for the best he wasn’t available at the moment. If he had picked up, Marinette was certain she would have broken down right then, and crying on a public bus was sure to disturb the other passengers.

“Don’t cry…”

Despite her mantra, a tear escaped the corner of her eye and carved a shining path down her cheek. She wiped it away before anyone could see.

* * *

Adrien wondered if the girl knew that he could see her crying.

A successful escape attempt – cinema bound – had resulted in him hopping the closest bus. He had to turn his phone off lest Natalie be able to track his whereabouts; technically he was skipping a Chinese lesson. Adrien wasn’t familiar with the Parisian public transit system, having a chauffeur and all, and was reviewing his pamphlet to locate the correct bus stop when a quiet sniffle drew his attention to the girl seated a couple seats in front of him.

She was crying…

Thoughts of the cinema gone, Adrien closed the pamphlet and watched the girl. She couldn’t be any older than he was, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Dark hair, almost black, pulled into twin pigtails that sat low against the nape of her neck. Her backpack she clutched close to her chest, and he detected the telltale shake of her shoulders as she struggled not to make a sound.

Something had happened to this girl, something awful. Cinema be damned, this girl needed a day off more than he did.

She got off the bus at the next stop. He hopped off a beat before the doors closed, leaving him and the girl standing under the awning of the stop, somewhere near Notre Dame. She didn’t move from where she had stopped, finally allowing visible tears to push past her clenched eyelids.

Adrien swallowed his nerves and approached cautiously. “Hey, um. Wanna get some coffee?”

* * *

“Hey, um. Wanna get some coffee?”

Marinette looked to her left, where a tall blonde had moved closer, his green eyes slanted in worry as he regarded her. Marinette’s initial thought was simply, _wow, he’s hot_. He looked vaguely familiar, probably about her age. She couldn’t place him exactly, but she felt as if she had seen him somewhere before.

“Me?”

The boy scratched the back of his neck shyly. “Uh, yeah. I actually saw you looking upset on the bus and I thought, it’s too pretty of a day to be sad, and… um…”

Marinette blinked, a flush rising up on the back of her neck. “You saw that?”

“I- I mean I didn’t mean to stare or anything, I just thought that, I dunno, you would need a distraction? Maybe? I was actually heading to the movies if you wanna come, or maybe coffee? Or something? Take your mind off of it?”

Marinette only blinked at him as the boy talked, rubbing the back of his head as he looked everywhere except her. It was cute, actually, and Marinette was tempted to take him up on his offer. She did keep pepper spray in her purse, and he didn’t immediately display ill intent, unless lightly blushing was a red flag. She supposed as long as she remained in public, it wouldn’t be too bad…

“C-coffee sounds… nice,” she finally said, rubbing a final tear from her eye and regaining composure.

“Really? Great! There’s a really good place not far from here, I think… I don’t actually know, I’ve never taken the bus before…”

“Never taken the bus?”

The boy explained as they walked, her still clutching her backpack to her chest and him keeping a respectful distance between them. He explained that he had a kind of strict father who insisted his son be driven everywhere. The boy had tapped into his rebellious teenage hormones to ditch his activity-of-the-day to take some time to himself, which is when he had run into Marinette.

Marinette found the story amusing. This boy was probably well off financially (she could spot designer-brand outfits a mile away) and maybe even from an influential family. He found something so mundane as taking the bus exciting enough to practically vibrate from happiness. She smiled a bit behind her hand.

“So,” he said as he held the door to the small café open for her to enter. “What’s got you so upset?”

* * *

“What’s got you so upset?”

Adrien hoped he wasn’t being too forward. The girl was obviously still riled up a little, if her occasional sniffle was any indication, but as they had walked she had seemed to sober up enough to smile at him a bit. She didn’t respond to his inquiry until they had already slid into a booth opposite each other, her backpack pressed between her body and the wall. She sipped at her hot chocolate and regarded him carefully, sizing him up.

Adrien understood. He supposed it was just like his relationship with Ladybug; it had taken her months to really and truly open up to him, and he put this girl under pressure in a matter of seconds. Come to think of it, she did have really blue eyes… and dark hair.

“Do you ever work so hard for something,” she finally began, drawing her hands into her lap and taking interest in a straw. “And when it’s finally time to present it, all anyone has for it is scathing criticism?”

Adrien did work that hard. He knew the pressure to be perfect, and he definitely understood how hard it is to climb so high and fall so hard, especially when it came to his father. He nodded and nursed his caramel macchiato as she continued to speak.

She didn’t say exactly what her project was. He respected that. Ladybug had inadvertently taught him patience, and he didn’t push for any more information than what she was willing to provide. He never looked away from her face, giving her his utmost attention. The more she talked the more she unwound, the tension seeping from her shoulders and color returning to her face. She talked with her hands, waving them about and pointing at nonexistent things; it was actually kind of cute.

“So I was rejected, and now that’s two weeks of my life I won’t get back.”

“Sounds rough.”

* * *

“Sounds rough.”

Marinette looked at him for the first time since she started talking. He was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place; she wanted to say empathy but she wasn’t exactly sure what an empathetic expression looked like, so she left it at understanding and disregarded it.

As much as it hurt to once again face her pain and humiliation at the judges’ mercy, Marinette would admit that it felt nice to get everything off her chest. It was a similar familiarity she felt with Chat Noir, like she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge her for it. This boy expressed that same warm feeling.

His kindness tugged at her heartstrings. How many people would stop and comfort a crying stranger, treat them to coffee and listen to their woes? She met his soft gaze and felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her spine, so strong that she physically sat straighter. He looked mildly concerned at her spasm but didn’t question it.

“It must be hard to get rejected,” he said, and finished off his drink with an obnoxious slurp. “But you seem like an energetic girl, I bet that whatever competition you enter next, you’ll blow the judges away.”

“How could you be so sure?” Marinette played with her fingers. “What if this is a sign that I should just take up my family business and be done with it?”

The boy tensed, a guarded expression marring his handsome features. “Don’t settle for that,” he said, much more firmly than what she expected. “Unless it’s your dream to take up the family business, don’t just _settle_ for it. You’ll be miserable. If you really want this, _really_ want it, then you’ll come up with something even greater than you ever thought you could. You’ll be your own person and not burdened with the weight of a legacy you can’t possibly hope to live up to.”

Marinette blinked. He seemed to realize his outburst and immediately shrunk back into his seat, avoiding her gaze in a submissive pose, hands fiddling with his empty cup. He spoke from experience, she realized, and maybe even grew up in an environment where speaking out was discouraged. She remembered what he said about a strict father, and she suddenly had the urge to hug him, as if he was the one in need of comfort, not herself.

“Th-thanks.”

* * *

“Th-thanks.”

Adrien hated himself. He couldn’t just go around telling off strange girls about their life choices when he had no room to speak. She stared at him wide-eyed, mouth slightly open. He was used to being gawked at as such, but it was still a little nerve-wracking. He avoided his gaze, biting his lower lip and giving his hands something to do. It was instinctual at this point to crawl in on himself whenever he let his emotions get the better of him, and he felt bad for being rude. She was the one who needed comforting and here he was using her has a way to tell himself to stand up to his father.

So when she thanked him, he started, slowing raising his gaze to meet her kind blue eyes. “I needed that. And it seems like you could do with a little distracting, too.”

So she distracted him. She told him about the girl she babysat sometimes, and how she always got into trouble. She ripped a sheet of paper from a notebook in her bag and taught him how to fold a paper crane (a Japanese art, though she admitted she was half-Chinese). It was incredibly calming, and even if Adrien’s crane looked more like a duck, she praised him with a warm smile.

She got a call from her parents in the middle of a rant about an annoying girl at school and they decided to call it a day. Adrien admitted to himself, as they threw away their long-empty cups and headed out the door, that this was much more fun than going to the movies.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said, and her grip tightened on her backpack strap. “I needed it.”

Adrien smiled. “It was no problem. I hope to run into you again sometime.”

He might have imagined it, but her face turned slightly redder. “Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

It wasn’t until they parted ways that Adrien realized he didn’t even get her name.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why won't you talk to me?  
> Get those problems out of your head  
> Take a second girl, talk to me  
> Cause I know you got some shit that you haven't said
> 
> -Roy Woods, "Talk To Me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a ML fanfic without identity angst? What, you thought it was gonna be fluff and near misses forever?
> 
> Thanks for waiting, everyone! I have exams coming up next week, so it may be a while until the next update. Stay calm!
> 
> If the last chapter killed you, I'd hate to see what this one does.

“I think I’m in love, Chat.”

The words twisted in his heart. He could feel the open wound burst from his chest, his life force pulsing from the serrated flesh. His chest felt tight, and he was short of breath. “O-Oh?” He wanted to slam his head into the wall for stuttering. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I don’t even know!” Ladybug was giddy. “I only met him the other day and I didn’t even get his name but oh my god, Chat, he was so handsome and kind and…!” He could imagine her pacing in her room, maybe gesturing wildly at nothing as she relayed her innermost emotions.

And he was happy for her. Really, he was. Ladybug deserved a decent guy in her life. Adrien would never know the woes of a public school student, but she was a wonderful person who deserved a guy who would cherish her. A part of Adrien wished it was him that she was gushing over, but the probability was near impossible. Even though the girl he’d met for coffee had dark hair and blue eyes, her personality didn’t line up with the image of Ladybug in his head. It didn’t make his heart ache any less.

“You didn’t even get his name?”

“We were just talking and it never came up! Oh Chat, he was so encouraging! You know that fashion competition I entered?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I lost. Completely. You didn’t pick up the phone –” Adrien remembered the notification of a missed call popping up once he had turned his phone back on, but he had assumed it was Natalie and had disregarded it. Yet another stab of pain was added to his growing collection of wounds. “—and he was there and we talked over coffee and he encouraged me to try again! I was so ready to just give up but he convinced me to keep going! EEEEK.”

* * *

 

“EEEEK.”

Marinette twirled around in her room, not even trying to shroud the loopy smile that curved her features. Every part of her was practically glowing. She felt so lightweight, she thought she might float from her window and fly across the rooftops of Paris. The image of her mystery boy was burned to the back of her eyelids. She saw his face whenever she closed her eyes: his golden-blond hair swept in front of intelligent forest-green eyes, sharp jawline and sturdy chin, and a piercing smile that made his eyes crinkle up a little. Beautiful, inside and out!

Part of her felt bad, subjecting Chat to her ramblings. Surely a boy wouldn’t take much interest in his friend-who-is-a-girl’s love life. He was a champ, though, and listened to her nearly incoherent freak out.

“So you have no idea who this guy is and you’re in love? Doesn’t that seem hasty?”

“Probably.” Marinette was slowly coming down from her high, and yet still found herself filled with a nervous energy. She grabbed a light coat and began to descend the stairs into the kitchen area. Maybe a walk would wear her down. “But I know what I feel. He talked about himself a little, too, and I could tell that he was lonely. I felt like we were comforting each other, and there was a bond there. I could feel it. And I know I would feel it again if I ran into him one more time.”

Marinette bid her parents a brief goodbye and pushed her way out into the street, setting off in no particular direction. The weather was beautiful, clear skies and few clouds with just the right amount of warmth to soak through her coat with a light breeze to rustle her hair. Marinette breathed in deeply.

“What if you don’t run into him again?” Chat still seemed skeptic.

“I have a feeling I will.”

“That’s what you’re going on? A gut feeling?”

“I trust my instincts.”

“I just think you’re –”

Marinette stopped walking, an angry heat suddenly burning in her chest. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

* * *

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Adrien felt his heart speed up. She was getting mad at him. Mad at him for worrying about her safety? Safety from this guy she only met once, whose name she didn’t even know and would probably never meet again? Frustration built up in his own chest, and he tried to beat it back down but her stubbornness was finally wearing on his patience.

“Why can’t you trust me that I know what I feel?”

His patience snapped. “Why can’t _you_ trust _me_ when I say that _you can’t fall in love with someone whose name you don’t even know?”_

Adrien realized the paradox the moment it was out of his mouth. He didn’t know Ladybug’s real name. He didn’t know really anything about her, and yet his heart leapt with exhilaration whenever he heard her voice, her laugh. If he claimed to be in love with Ladybug, a girl he hadn’t even met in real life, then why was he telling her that she couldn’t fall in love with a guy whom she actually had coffee with?

Ladybug stewed in silence on her end. Adrien swallowed hard, wishing he could take back what he said. But it was no use, the words were out there, hanging between them and slowly poisoning the relationship he had carefully nurtured for over a year.

“Why are you so hung up about this anyway?” Ladybug said icily. “It’s not like you’re in love with me or anything, so why do you care? You don’t know my life, or me, so why do you get any say in how I live and fall in love? You’re just a voice through a receiver! How can you possibly know how it feels!?”

Adrien felt his stomach bottom out. Is that what she really felt? Did she really think so little of their relationship, no matter how distant or fabricated it was? Was he the only one who cherished their conversations that could go on for hours, was he the only one who actively wanted to be friends? Was he just a support line? The questions rattled inside him, and he coughed loudly to release the tension building in the back of his throat.

He knew she didn’t return his affections. Whether she knew if they were genuine or not he didn’t know, but to outright deny his feelings like they were some cheesy pick up lines at a bar was poison on the knife blade embedded in his heart.

Adrien dropped the cell phone from his ear and ended the call, hugging his knees to his chest. His bedroom seemed infinitely larger now, and Adrien shrank under its fastness, feeling lesser than the tiniest insect. This was what Adrien had feared most, he realized. That it was all fake. A dream. That one day he would wake up and everything would be over, Ladybug would disappear, and he would go back to his meaningless life as a teenage robot.

If this is what it felt to have your heart broken, he decided, better to not fall in love at all.

* * *

 

“How can you possibly know how it feels!?”

Marinette regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The aftertaste was bitter and vile, stinging her tongue like acid. She wished she could take them back, shove them back down her throat where they belonged. Go back in time and do anything except say that.

Chat didn’t respond. The dial tone alerted her that he had hung up, and Marinette suddenly felt lower than dirt. It was their first major fight, and Marinette didn’t know what to do about it. She tried calling him again, and it rang a couple times before being cut off.

That was never good.

He was actively avoiding her now. Oh god, _what had she done?_

Marinette deposited her phone into her purse, dropping heavily into a nearby bench. She was still mad, a little. Technically, Chat really didn’t know who she was and therefore couldn’t possibly understand her emotions, but Marinette shouldn’t have yelled, and _definitely_ didn’t have a right to disregard him as anything more than a personal help line. She valued him as much more than that. He was a friend, a confidant, and a glowing light in her clumsy and hapless existence.

She decided to give him a few days, and then she would try to apologize again.

Marinette somehow found the strength in her legs to stand. She definitely felt tired now, and needed to lie down. She turned to begin heading back to the bakery when a nearby billboard caught her eye. It featured an ad displaying some product, but it wasn’t the item that grabbed her attention. It was the blonde head grinning at her, green eyes half-lidded in an enticing way.

_Adrien Agreste endorses [insert product here]! Buy today!_

Marinette, without tearing her eyes from the sign, dug her phone from her purse. It rang a few times before being picked up.

“Hello?”

“Alya. I have a problem.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hurry up and wait so close but so far away  
> Everything that you've always dreamed of  
> Close enough for you to taste but you just can't touch"
> 
> "One Step at a Time" - Jordin Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count got away with me again. I try to keep these relatively short, but somehow they keep getting longer. Anyway.
> 
> Thanks for waiting, everyone! Turns out I had my dates mixed up and NEXT week is finals! I still have a lot of studying to do but here’s what I’ve written between long hours of procrastinating!
> 
> Also! I received a request a bit ago to draw fanart (AAAAH) and I remembered it recently so I just wanted to throw out there as a general statement that you guys are more than welcome to do so! Tag me in it on tumblr!

Incoming Message!  
From: CN  
Body:  
[Le Castel Café, Saturday. 1pm]

Marinette was beside herself. She stood just around the corner from the café, pacing back and forth, phone clutched in a death grip against her chest. She had tried calling after a couple days like she had promised herself, but he was elusive. Sometimes she knew when he denied her call. Sometimes it just rang. Sometimes it went to voicemail. Almost two weeks without contact.

At first, Marinette couldn’t identify the reason she stayed up hours past normal, why she was so restless in her seat during class. Even the discovery of the mystery boy’s name – _Adrien_ , what a _beautiful_ name – wasn’t enough to completely still her heart. It was when she spotted a stray black cat on the street nibbling out of a dumpster when it hit her.

She missed him.

She missed their talks, their playful banter. She missed the silence as they just sat and listened to the other breathe, enjoying company. She missed hearing him yell at video games, she missed his infallible advice, his stupid puns and incessant flirting. _And there he was, around the corner._

Alya had not been happy when Marinette had finally admitted that the butt of her incredibly complicated problem was a boy she’d been talking to for a little over a year.

“You’ve been talking to a _boy_ for a _year_ and _you didn’t tell me?_ ”

She placated after a while, though, and allowed Marinette to describe the past year and their fight in exquisite detail (“You went to _coffee_ with a _boy_ and _you didn’t tell me?”_ ). By the time Marinette had finished, Alya was gooey from the love story straight from Hollywood.

It was Alya’s advice to go meet him at Le Castel Café, his text arriving while the two girls were hanging out. And that’s where she was, an hour early, wringing her hands and texting Alya for support like a madwoman. Maybe she should have taken her friend’s offer to be her on-call escape route.  

* * *

Adrien missed her.

He missed her laugh, her jokes, and her comebacks. He missed the sound she made whenever he punned, or flirted a little too hard. He couldn’t count the amount of times he let his finger hover her contact information over the past two weeks, trying to will himself to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Every time he saw her trying to call him, he either panicked and rejected it or was reminded of her cruel words and let it ring, simply staring at the phone as it buzzed against a counter until falling silent.

She didn’t leave voicemails.

Adrien wasn’t sure what drove him to finally text her. Unable to bring himself to dial, he found his closest day off and shot her the text before he could stop himself.

He wanted to meet her. He wanted to properly apologize to her face, overcome the invisible hurdle the separated them and establish a formal friendly relationship with her, so that he wouldn’t just be her personal support line. He needed to know that what they shared wasn’t fake. He needed to know that she wouldn’t leave him.

But would she come?

The question rattled in his head as he sat in the gilded iron chair situated outside the doors to Le Castel Café, a caramel macchiato in hand and foot jiggling nervously from where it was crossed over the opposite knee. His phone remained face up on the glass table at his elbow, and he continued to glance at the time. The minutes had never passed more slowly.

Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to arrive two hours early. It gave him ample time to think and rethink over every possible scenario of this meeting.

  1. She doesn’t show.
  2. She does show, but he doesn’t recognize her (which, really, isn’t all that much better than the first option).
  3. She says she doesn’t want to talk to him ever again.



Every option was sounding worse than the last.

He checked the time again. 12:30.

Thirty more minutes of agony. He didn’t dare go back inside and get another drink. He wanted to see her approach. His green eyes flicked to every face that entered and left the café.

* * *

It was five minutes to one. Marinette squashed the resurrected scenario that he actually _was_ a serial killer and it was actually his MO to lure girls for over a year. She couldn’t back out now. From around the circular advertisement board, she could see the café situated between two other retail stores, some of the small tables outside occupied by other shop goers. Marinette was too far to make out too many details.

She eventually stopped trying to still her pounding heart and, with a grip on her purse and grit of her teeth, took a step forward. And another.

The café seemed to skip farther away the more steps she took, as if it was acting as fate’s messenger. _Don’t come any closer!_

“Hey, you’re…!”

Marinette blinked. The café zoomed into focus, the door barely a foot away. The alarm on her phone chimed one o’clock.

She looked over at where a blonde man had stood up, green-tinted black sunglasses obscuring his face. Marinette about had a heart attack when, after looking over her shoulder to see no one there, determined that the eyes hidden behind the glasses were directed at her. Something must have show on her face because the man appeared to remember he was still wearing sunglasses. With an apologetic smile, he reached up and removed the shades.

“Remember me?”

Marinette about had an aneurism. _Adrien Agreste. The_ Adrien Agreste _,_ looking remarkably casual in dark denim jeans and a light blue collared shirt peeking out from beneath a light grey sweater. He tucked the sunglasses into the dip of his v-neck sweater, green eyes sparkling at her as he smiled, blonde hair appearing to glow in the midday sun.

“A-aaaaaaaah!” Marinette realized she was staring and blinked herself back to reality. This is _just_ what she needed, the very object of her fight with Chat, here, where she was supposed to _meet_ Chat to apologize for the _aforementioned fight._ Just her luck. “Ah, um. Yes! You’re, uh… Ad- cough, Adrien Agreste, right?”

He blinked, the smile fading a bit as he processed how she knew his name. It appeared to dawn on him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, one hand tucked into a pants pocket like he was posing for a photo. _Oh my gooooood._ “Ha, should have guessed you knew who I was. My face _is_ all over Paris, after all.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Marinette shook her hands wildly, trying to recover the situation. He must be so used to people only approaching him because of his fame, or his looks. “I promise I didn’t know who you were when we had coffee! I mean, I know who you are _now_ and if I had known _then_ I probably would have – no, wait, I wouldn’t! I swear I wouldn’t but you’re here and wow you look great, I mean, wow, um, I’m going to stop talking now.”

* * *

“I mean, wow, um, I’m going to stop talking now.”

Adrien smiled through the girl’s rambling. A part of his heart shriveled at her stammering though; was he so intimidating that he elicited this kind of reaction from a previously collected (as collected one could be when having just lost a competition) girl?

“It’s fine, I promise,” Adrien laughed it off. The girl calmed down a little, both hands gripping the strap of her small pink purse. It went well with her ensemble of a salmon-pink ruffle shirt matched with short black bottoms that showed off her pale legs, feet encased in dainty pink flats. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders, and swayed whenever she moved her head. “You look great, too.”

She flushed a little at the compliment. "Th-thanks."

“So what are you doing here?”

The flush drained from her face. Adrien suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m, um, meeting a friend.”

“O-oh,” Adrien said. “When are they coming?”

“I’m supposed to meet him now,” she said, her eyes flicking from side to side as if looking for him. “But I’m not sure if he’ll actually show.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I got into a fight with him, and I’m not sure how to fix it. We’re supposed to meet around here and talk it out.”

Adrien felt his own shoulders droop a bit at the reminder of his own conflict in need of resolution. But once again it was time to put his own needs aside for the sake of this girl. “Sit down,” he offered, and gestured to the empty seat beside where he had been sitting previously. She eyed him nervously and settled into the chair, Adrien beside her. “Can I ask what it was about? Maybe I can give you some advice.”

She regarded him for a second, another flush rising in her cheeks as she met his eyes. “U-um…”

“You don’t have to tell me!” Adrien backtracked, waving his hands and looking nervously at a crumb near the sole of his shoe. “I’m sorry, that was invasive. I just want to help.”

She let out a chime of a giggle, and that seemed enough to dissipate the awkwardness between them. They settled into more comfortable positions, and the girl began to explain her problem.

“Well, I guess long story short, the friend I had a fight with didn’t like that I had fa—uhm, was really into this guy I met a while ago, but I don’t know the guy’s name… and I got mad at him – my friend – because he was just being a little forceful, I guess, that I was being a little hasty. And I am. I totally am, but I dunno, something came over me and I said some really awful things. It’s totally my fault and I’ve been trying to apologize for a while but he’s avoiding me… until he texted me to meet him here.” She took a staggering breath. “He’s incredibly important to me, and I don’t think he knows just how much.”

* * *

“He’s incredibly important to me, and I don’t think he knows just how much.”

Adrien – _The_ Adrien - listened intently, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Marinette fidgeted nervously under his gaze, occasionally looking up to meet his stare. His eyes really were so green, she thought.

“I think as long as you admit your mistake and apologize, he’ll be fine,” Adrien said, leaning back into his chair. “Although I have to agree, falling in love with a guy after only meeting him once is a bit… much.” His face contorted into worry. “N-not to say that you’re wrong and you don’t know how you feel! It’s just that…” His eyes deflected to the side, unable to look anywhere except his shoelaces. “If I were your friend, I’d be worried about you.”

Marinette blinked. “Worried?”

He nodded. “Well, yeah. You met him once? Don’t know his name? It doesn’t matter if he was nice or not, he still might be dangerous. Your friend was probably trying to protect you, in his own way.”

Marinette felt even more incredibly guilty. She twisted her fingers together. “You’re right. He’s right. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re anything but that,” Adrien said, reaching across the table to lay his hand gently over hers, effectively stilling the nervous movements and causing Marinette to turn a violent shade of red. His hand was large, warm, completely encasing her own. “In the short time I’ve known you, I know you’re incredibly talented, strong-willed, and passionate. You’ll overcome this with your friend, I know it.”

Marinette didn’t know where to look. His face, aimed directly toward her with a kind, encouraging grin, or their interlocked hands. He appeared to notice her slight discomfort at his gesture, and he retracted his hand like he had been burned, slight surprise at what he had done.

Marinette smiled to ease the tension, and, while they waited for Chat Noir to appear, they talked some more. He asked her questions about her competitions, and she asked him things in return. He avoided personal questions about his career and things, but Marinette did learn that he was fluent in Chinese, had won several fencing competitions, and played the piano.

 _Chat may be right. I might have been hasty before._ Marinette thought, watching Adrien describe the difficulties of learning Chinese and scribbling random characters on a napkin to emphasize his point. _But I sure as hell am in love with him now._

* * *

It was close to three o’clock by the time Adrien came to the conclusion that Ladybug wouldn’t show. A part of him was disappointed that she had dismissed him so harshly, without a text to apologize for her absence. The dark haired girl, however, claimed her empty space and he found that talking to her took his mind off of a lot of things. He felt comfortable around her, though he seemed to intimidate her a little; she couldn’t look him directly in the face, and stumbled over her words some. It was kind of cute, in Adrien’s opinion.

He was enjoying their time together, until his phone went off with a notification from Natalie. His photo shoot scheduled for later that night had gotten pushed forward, and he needed to report to the location immediately. Adrien sighed.

“Who was that?” the girl asked, sucking dry the last of her drink.

“My manager,” Adrien grimaced. “I’ve got to get going.”

“O-oh,” she said, face crestfallen. “I, um, guess my friend isn’t coming. I sh-should go home, too.”

“Want me to drive you?”

Her eyes widened. “N-no! No, that’s okay, I don’t live far from here…”

“You sure?”

She nodded quickly, and stood to throw her drink away. “It- it was nice to see you again, A-Adrien,” she stuttered, seeming unable to find somewhere to put her hands. “Bye!”

It was when she was stuck at the crosswalk that Adrien finally caught up to her, grasping her gently by the shoulder and turning her body to face him. “Wait a sec!” he grinned. “It seems you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“It’s… Marinette,” she whispered, the pink in her cheeks matching the color of her shirt. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Then, it’s nice to meet you, Marinette,” he said, and released her shoulder.

He watched until Marinette was out of sight before digging his phone out and signaling his driver. With the hype of Marinette gone, the weight of Ladybug’s no-show weighed on his shoulders again. So at the photo shoot, when the photographer asked him to look longingly into the distance, Adrien, instead of thinking about his Lady, conjured the image of a cute dark-haired girl across from him in a café, and blissfully smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's outfit: http://www.stylishwife.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Mens-Casual-Fashion-Style-41.jpg  
> Marinette's outfit (second from left): http://puttingwithperfection.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Casual-Womens-Trend-Fashion-2011-Photos-Collection.jpg


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying awake and I can't go to sleep.  
> So what can I say  
> When I'm feeling this way.  
> And I just wish that you could talk to me
> 
> \- DJ Giyani ft. Layla, “Talk To Me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, everyone! My exams are wrapping up and I figured I'd go ahead and put you out of your misery. I think I’ve teased y’all long enough. Even I can only tolerate Adrien being oblivious for so long.
> 
> I also think I should mention that I had a very dark idea about where to take this, like rating-bump dark, but I abandoned it because I really don’t want to kill you all. I suppose I could make an alternate ending if you really wanted me to, though…

Adrien couldn’t believe how stupid he was.

The revelation hit him at almost three am, tossing and turning all night until, just on the verge of sleep, his mind replayed the scene at the café with the girl – Marinette – and he sat bolt upright. Now a ball of restless energy at three in the freakin’ morning, Adrien paced the perimeter of his room in nothing but his boxers, hands raking through his hair as if the motions would make things clearer. It was too perfect to be a coincidence

_Fight with a friend. Black hair, blue eyes. Le Castel café. One o’clock._

She looked so torn up, nervous as hell, put together neatly as if to obscure her anxiety. And okay, understandable that she would be nervous meeting with a friend with whom she’d had a fight about a guy…

Wait.

Wait, what?

Adrien paused by the window, hands falling to his sides. It was a new moon tonight; thin strips of light cast from street lamps outside stretched like ghoulish fingers across the floor of his room, grabbing onto his ankles and rooting him to the spot.

_Guy she met once. Didn’t know his name. Really into this guy._

Haha, no way. She could barely look him in the eye. It was probably an online date gone wrong.

Still. Adrien didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He had no proof that Marinette was Ladybug. All his evidence was circumstantial, based on the two coincidental times he had encountered her. He needed solid proof; he needed the words coming straight from the horse’s mouth before he would accept truth as truth. He ran his hands through his hair, gripping the golden strands by the roots. _Whoooooa god._

Adrien didn’t want to get his hopes up. But damn, he couldn’t think of anyone other than Marinette he would rather have Ladybug be. In the two times he had interacted with her, she was genuine, pure, humble, and wore her heart on her sleeve, quite the opposite of himself. Where he was quiet and laid back, she was out going and joyous, even in times of personal crisis. It was intoxicating.

But so was Ladybug. Her wit and sass, overladen with the sweet sense of comfort and warmth, everything Adrien wanted. Was it even possible to be torn between two people whom you barely knew? Adrien wanted to put his head through the wall in his frustration.

Adrien’s phone went off, Ladybug’s ringtone resounding in the darkness. He glanced at it for a split second, as if to make sure that really was Ladybug’s ringtone. With a jolt of adrenaline, he realized it was, and made a dive for it, scrambling for the device and ending up sprawled in an uncomfortable position, barely managing to slide his thumb across the screen and accept the call. “Hello!?”

* * *

 “Hello!?”

Marinette was suddenly wide-awake. Whatever dregs of sleep that still clung to the corners of her eyes vanished in an instant as her heart took off from the starting gate. She hadn’t expected him to be awake at this ungodly hour. Only the heavens knew exactly how long Marinette had lain awake, staring at the ceiling of her room and trying to convince herself that Chat Noir _had_ shown up, and she’d just missed him while engrossed with Adrien.

_Adrien._ Marinette wanted to sing whenever she thought about him, that small smile, gentle advice. He’d touched her hand, completely enveloping it within his own as if it was natural. It was so warm, so gentle. She got butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it.

But she wouldn’t even have been there in the first place if it weren’t for Chat Noir. The smile left her face as she recalled their failure of reconciliation. Had Chat blown her off? Was he so much of a scaredy cat that he couldn’t even handle a face-to-face conversation, no matter how much he implied he wanted to? Or had he actually shown up, and Adrien had consumed so much of her thoughts that she had completely blown _him_ off?

Marinette didn’t want to think about that.

“H-Hi, Chat,” Marinette managed, pulling her body up on the bed to lean in a more comfortable position against her giant cat pillow.

“Ladybug.”

The silence that stretched between them was incredibly awkward, and made Marinette increasingly nervous by the second.

“Chat, I’m –”

“I’m sorry for – ”

They both broke off whatever they had been trying to say, letting out breathy giggles at the clichéd action of speaking over the other.

“Go ahead,” Marinette finally said, free hand gathering the plush she had made when she was a kid, named Tikki, against her chest. The little red stuffed animal had always provided comfort for Marinette whenever she felt overwhelmed or nervous.

Chat cleared his throat. She could almost imagine him doing the pulling-at-the-collar-and-swallowing move from cartoons. “Look, Ladybug, I’m – I’m sorry. I’m sorry I thought your feelings weren’t valid, I’m sorry for yelling…”

“No!” Marinette interrupted. “No, I’m the one who has to be sorry, Chat! You didn’t do anything wrong.” She remembered what Adrien had told her. “You were just worried, and I’m the one who yelled, and I shouldn’t have said the other things I did!”

“But Ladybug, I’m the one who dismissed your feelings.”

“I dismissed yours,” Marinette countered.

“But –“

“No! I’m staying firm about this. How about we just split the blame?”

“Split the blame?”

* * *

“Split the blame?”

Adrien swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. Ladybug was determined to shoulder all the blame, and he would not stand for that. But, he knew Ladybug. And she was stubborn, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So he relented, letting out a deep breath and letting his tense shoulders relax.

“Yeah. Because neither of us are going to back down here, so one of us has to take charge.”

“Okay, fine,” Adrien breathed immediately, falling backwards onto his bedspread and absentmindedly staring at the small rocks that jutted out from his climbing wall. “We’ll split the blame. I shouldn’t have pushed you–“

“ –and I shouldn’t have yelled,” Ladybug finished. He could sense her smile from the other side of the phone. “So, are we okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re okay.”

“I’m glad.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, breathing slowly as each came to terms with their first fight and make up.

The question was burning Adrien’s tongue: _Why didn’t you come today?_ He yearned to ask, to know, to see if she would relinquish any information that contributed to his theory. But Adrien couldn’t bring himself to do it. What if it wasn’t actually Marinette? What if she actually did show up, saw him with another girl, and thought the worst? Adrien knew he shouldn’t let the anxiety get the better of him, but he couldn’t help the worry that descended upon him again.

“So, Chat, about today…” Ladybug must be psychic, as she suddenly spoke to address what was weighing on apparently both of their minds. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Adrien consoled, donning the mask of carefree and understanding indifference.

“No, really,” she insisted. “I did go, but I didn’t see you. I ran into a friend, and, um, got distracted. I was going to call you, but…”

Adrien sat up straight, both hands now clutching his phone to the side of his face. _Marinette?_ No, no, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Keep a level head. He couldn’t allow his tumultuous thoughts to play through his mask, so he kept his voice level as he said, “Oh, I see. That’s okay, I guess I’m to blame for that, too. I think I would know your wonderful voice anywhere, Ladybug.”

* * *

“I think I would know your wonderful voice anywhere, Ladybug.”

There. There he was. That was the Chat Noir Marinette knew. There was the flirtatious tomcat with a heart of gold and a laugh to match. Marinette would never have thought that she would miss his not-so-subtle advances, as joking as they were, and it was a relief to finally feel at ease again. She felt herself sink into the pillows and clutched Tikki tighter to her chest.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Marinette countered. “Voices can be pretty distorted over cell phones.”

“You forget, my Lady, that I have the ears of a cat, and can easily distinguish your voice from a crowd.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Why, my Lady, don’t you know black cats are the embodiment of bad luck?”

“And my ladybug good luck overrides yours.”

And there was the banter. The quips, the teasing, the back and forth that could carry on for hours. It was such a soothing return to normalcy that Marinette found herself getting teary, happiness swelling in her chest as they continued to talk, the stormy post-fight atmosphere giving way to clear skies and sunshine.

“I missed you,” she heard herself say, interrupting Chat in the middle of his monologue (something about his part-time job). He fell silent, and for a second Marinette worried that she had done something wrong. Then,

“I missed you too, bugaboo,” he whispered, and that's when Marinette let her joyous tears fall.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If your heart is willing, then your head can rest  
> Start at the beginning, lay it down on my chest  
> If your soul is living, do your best  
> Start at the beginning, I'll do the rest
> 
> \- Lee Ann Womack, “Talk To Me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do Adrien's parts always seem longer? Oh well.
> 
> Hey, all! Exams are over, which means I've finally gotten some time to write! Hooray! And you're in luck. If you've been following my tumblr, you'll have seen a Barbie in Swan Lake AU that I posted a bit ago. Well, I've chosen that as my next project. I don't have anything really planned for it yet, but keep an eye out for it once Talk To Me finishes!

 

Marinette was feeling much better after she and Chat Noir made up. In the short weeks that followed, Marinette found renewed vigor in her work. She finished commissions she had received from some classmates and took a couple extra hours at the bakery. Her parents and Alya noted her newfound energy, but Marinette chalked it up to a good mood and wouldn’t answer too many questions.

Marinette also somehow convinced Alya not to tell her parents about Chat Noir. Adverse at first, since he was technically a stranger, Alya eventually gave in under the stipulation that if he did anything weird, she would go straight to the parents. That was enough for the designer, confident now that they had gotten over this hurdle that Chat Noir wouldn’t do anything to her. She did find herself wondering idly who exactly he was, her thoughts drifting to her mysterious friend during times to peace and boredom. A small, tiny, teensy weensy bit of her wanted to know who he was, who exactly had been waiting for her at the Castel de Café. But she never acted on those musings. She decided a long time ago to keep their identities secret from one another.

At first it had been out of fear for her own safety; the guy could be a rapist, a serial killer, or just a pervert. Now,  _Ladybug_ had become a mask to the person Marinette felt confident enough to be. However clumsy or out of sorts she felt on normal days, Ladybug allowed her to be strong, firm, confident. She worried that once the secret was out (the "cat out of the bag" as Chat would say), her Ladybug facade would disappear, and she wouldn't be anything other than plain, unattractive, and clumsy Marinette.

But enough of that. She had work to do!

“Marinette, can you handle the register please? I need to go make a delivery and your father is busy!”

“Sure thing, mom!”

Marinette tightened the apron around her waist and switched places with Sabine, the older woman giving her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding out the door with a box of cupcakes in hand. Marinette was immediately in work mode, smiling at the customers and filling them in on the best of the Dupain-Cheng treats.

Just after lunch on that bright Saturday, the bakery hit a lull. Customers dwindled to only a few, and Marinette was given several moments to breathe. Saturdays were always busy, but the brief respite was a good chance to wipe down some of the glass surfaces and take a breather. As soon as she knelt to gather the rag and glass cleaner, the bell above the door jingled to admit a new customer.

Marinette breathed out and let her game face slide back over her features. With a smile, she straightened. “Welcome to the Dup—Gah!”

* * *

 

“Welcome to the Dup—Gah!”

Likelihood: 50%

At this point in his life, Adrien had gotten better and better at giving his bodyguard the slip. Agile as a cat, he wove between crowds, slipped from the back seat of the limo, or attacked with the big cute KittenTM stare that melted any heart (except his father's, and maybe Nathalie's, on a bad day). This time, he had pretended fencing practice had gone over, shooting a quick text to his driver to hold for at least thirty minutes.

Speed-showered and freshly clothed, Adrien took off towards where he knew the Dupain-Cheng Bakery sat wedged just around the corner from the school. It had taken him a few days to remember where he had heard the name _Dupain-Cheng_ before: the bakery he had snuck into, however long ago it was. Little under a year, maybe? It had taken another couple of days to remember where it was: down the stairs, around the corner, across the street aaaaaand…. _There!_

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Adrien didn’t let himself pause, knowing that the nervousness would prevent him from going in, like it had the last two times he had stood outside the door, trying to convince himself that he was just going in for a pastry and _Wow, hey, Marinette, I didn’t know you worked here! It must be fate if we keep running into each other!_

Was “fate” too much?

This time, Adrien approached the door and pushed it open with a small jingle. His nerves were immediately soothed by the warm smell of fresh baked bread, the sweet tartness of fruits, mouthwatering chocolate, and everything else that would give his nutritionist a heart attack. It was just as he remembered it the first time he had been here, minus the bustling crowd and excited chatter. Now only a few customers milled about, and the quiet hum of classical music in the background added a nice homely touch.

Adrien’s eyes were immediately drawn to the check-out counter, where Marinette was currently standing with her mouth hanging slightly open mid-sentence as she stared at him, blue eyes wide and hair pulled back under a bandanna. She had freckles, he realized, splattering over her nose like a Jackson Pollack painting. It was very cute. He flashed her a smile and a shy wave. Her mouth opened and closed like a wooden puppet for a moment before she seemed to gather herself, shaking her head and putting on a similar smile.

“Welcome to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery!”

“Fancy running into you here,” Adrien played it cool, moving up to the counter and relaxing against it. “Do you work here?”

“Uum, well, this is my parents’ place,” Marinette stuttered, fiddling absentmindedly with her fingers. “I fill in sometimes.”

“You parents run a bakery, that’s so cool!”

“Y-yeah.”

No, no, no, no awkward silences! “Sssooo, um, what’s good here?”

* * *

“Sssooo, um, what’s good here?”

Marinette was struggling to form words. Adrien's dazzling smile, fresh look, and kind eyes boring straight into hers left her weak in the knees, and her jaw hanging looser than missed stitch in a knitted scarf. He leaned on the counter, one chin resting in his palm. His other hand lay on the counter in front of her, long fingers absentmindedly drumming against the surface. She was mesmerized by the hypnotizing movement. “U-um...”

“Are you always this articulate?” he teased.

“N-no! No, no, no, s-sorry I space out sometimes.” Read: _I lose my motor function only when I’m in the presence of a super hot super smart super kind supermodel._

“Don’t worry about it, I think it’s kind of cute.”

Marinette and Adrien’s eyes widened as they both appeared to realize what he had just said. A light flush dusted both their cheeks, and they glanced away from the other. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit Marinette found insufferably attractive.

“Ah, um, what I mean is—”

“T-this is _bichon au citron,”_ Marinette interrupted loudly, feeling the heat rising in her face and unwilling to let this conversation get awkward. She indicated small brown turnovers nestled in a clear case next to the register. “It’s caramelized on the outside and has a lemon curd center. Um, these ones over here are called _financier,_ it’s a kind of almond sponge cake.”

Adrien went along as Marinette went on to describe almost every item in the bakery, as if Adrien hadn’t grown up in France and didn’t know what a chocolate éclair was. He took it in stride, however, and didn’t interrupt her at any time. When she finally paused for a breath, he said, “Wow, Marinette. You know a lot about baking.”

“Well, my parents _are_ bakers,” she responded, feeling slightly more at ease but still fritted her fingers with nervous energy. She was grateful her stutter had also faded away. “I don’t have much time for it myself, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I have school work, and I design clothes on the side. Sometimes I do commissions for my friends and I entered one of Gabriel Agreste’s bowler hat competitions maybe two years ago… I hope to get my own line… some… day…” Marinette trailed off as she realized just whom she was talking to. The _only son_ of the massive Agreste fashion corporation, her dream company, was standing right beside her, and she just started going off about her passion for fashion (Chat would be proud of her for that) in front of him!

_Oh no, I bet he gets that a million times a day from girls just like me, crawling all over him and his name and his gorgeous stupid face just to get in the big leagues oh my god he probably thinks I just wanna get in his –_

“I happen to know a thing or two about design, you know.”

* * *

“I happen to know a thing or two about design, you know.” Adrien smiled down at the frozen girl beside him. “You should show me your designs some time.”

Did he break her? She seemed so out of it, her face angled slightly towards his but her eyes daring in every direction except his face as a red sheen crept down her neck. Adrien sucked on the inside of his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Ladybug wasn’t this inarticulate; she always knew what to say, her speech unbroken. Marinette couldn’t hold herself together, her voice shaking and Adrien wondered if he intimidated her.

He knew what she was thinking. Here he was, model Adrien Agreste, son of fashion tycoon Gabriel Agreste, and she had gone on a small tirade about fashion design. Yes he was sick of all of it, but for some reason he didn’t mind her, though; he liked the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned it, how so much more confident she seemed in those few words. Until she clammed up again.

Adrien was about to lower his Marinette-Is-Ladybug scale to about forty percent when he remembered that Ladybug also liked fashion, and had neglected to show him her designs, since that would bring upon their reveal. He instead raised it up to about sixty percent.

Part of Adrien knew he shouldn’t be projecting Ladybug’s image onto anyone, especially a girl that he barely knew. She didn’t want to reveal their identities, and here he was trying to track her down. The guilt slowly ate at him, but Adrien could only pretend to be indifferent for so long. The burning desire to know was overcoming his every thought of her.

“Y-yeah,” Marinette finally spoke, in response to his suggestion to see her designs. “I’d appreciate the input.”

“Great!” Adrien smiled, putting Ladybug out of his mind for now. “I’ll drop by again soon. I’d give you my number but my father is very strict about who has access to it…”

“Oh!” Marinette waved her hands, eyes going wide. “Oh, that’s okay! Really! I’m, um, here most days so I guess… whenever?”

His grin grew wider. “Great. I’ll call ahead so you know when.”

At that moment, the timer on his phone went off, signaling he only had about five minutes before his driver appeared at the school. He cursed silently, and cast an apologetic look at Marinette. “Looks like I have to go.”

She smiled. “Your manager again?”

“My driver, actually,” Adrien laughed. “I kind of played hooky.”

She giggled, a chime that rang in his eardrums. “You’d better go.”

Adrien stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll see ya around, Marinette!” With the twinkle of the overhead bell, Adrien was gone, taking off across the street and around the corner and up the stairs just in time to see the Gorilla pull up in the silver limo. Today, for once it seemed, Adrien had pretty damn good luck.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me, why won’t you talk to me  
> Can’t you see I’m burning up  
> When you look like that  
> And I’m looking right back
> 
> -Carly Rae Jepson, "Talk To Me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end! Thank you all so much for your wonderful, unending support!

Adrien looked up from the sketchbook in his hands at Marinette, who sat beside him. She looked incredibly nervous, her hands wringing in her lap and eyes glancing everywhere but him, shoulders bunched up around her ears. He didn’t blame her for being nervous; if he was in her position, he would be the same. After all, it wasn’t every day one showed their designs to the son of the number one fashion icon in Europe.

But she had nothing to be worried about. For a girl of sixteen (he’d finally gotten a lock down on her age, the same as his), her designs rivaled some of the ones he had seen in his father’s company. Adrien didn’t know much about clothes, since it was his job to wear them not make them, but even he could tell the intricacies that went into the sketches, the number of hours she spent huddled over the book until her fingers ached.

“These are incredible!” he praised her, and turned the page to see the next drawing, a black, floor-length cocktail dress with a collar pressed tightly to the wearer's neck, long black gloves reaching mid-bicep, with small strips of thread ribboning up the rest of the arm and shoulder until it connected to the rest of the dress. It was simple, but from the notes on the side indicating different kinds of stitches and fabrics and overlays and other design terms he didn’t recognize, it appeared to be incredibly complicated. “Like, really incredible.”

Marinette perked up at his compliment, her face turning a bright shade of red that matched her sweater. Adrien had observed, when he had spotted her approaching him from across the park, that red was a very good color on her. They now sat side by side on a bench in the park near the bakery, her complying with his request to see her designs. He’d called the bakery to schedule a time; he wished he could give her his phone number, but his father was adamant that no one but requisite staff members have it (“So the media – and adolescent females – doesn’t get a hold of it and distract you from your work.”).

“They really aren’t,” she said quietly. “It’s fine, you don’t have to sugar coat it.”

“I’m not lying, Marinette,” he insisted, and turned the page to see a summer dress, the swatch of colors reminding him of a purple sunset, or maybe a lightning storm with dark thunderclouds. “These are really incredible.”

* * *

“These are really incredible.”

Marinette allowed herself to smile, looking at him from her peripheral to save herself the mortification of being caught blatantly staring. She believed him; the amount of pure awe in his voice proved his sincerity. She knew him well enough by now, she guessed, that even if they weren’t good at all, he was too nice to tell her so. That was one of the incredible things about Adrien, Marinette realized. As little as she knew him, she knew he wouldn't want to see her hurting because of something he said or did. He wanted everyone around him to be happy, but she could also detect a hint a sadness behind the sparkle in his eyes, and she wanted to know what was causing it so she could put a stop to it.

“Thanks,” she said, and forced herself to focus on the blades of grass between her feet.

“How long does it take to make them?”

“It depends on the fabric, or the type of piece it is, and how complicated it is. Usually dresses and stuff take longer, from making the patterns to actually putting everything together it can take several days to a couple weeks. But simpler things like bags only take an hour or two, depending on the size. Although the stitching is different for each and –”

Marinette realized at this point she was rambling, and ducked her head again. She knew she tended to go off when she got on the subject of sewing… Alya could attest to that (“Sorry I asked,” was usually the response). Her parents supported her interests but kindly suggested she keep her rants to herself, for the sake of engaging the other person in conversation. So she cut herself off, letting her voice dwindle to a mere whisper before fading out into nothing. He probably felt so alienated right now; he wore clothes, but he didn’t make them, why would he care about --?

“And?”

She looked at him, and saw that he had closed the sketchbook, marking his place with a finger between the pages. He was looking at her expectantly, green eyes curious and eyebrows arched, an expression of genuine interest. Marinette thought her heart would explode.

“And?”

“You stopped talking.”

“Oh, sorry. I tend to rant, sometimes, and I’ve been told it puts people off a little…”

“No, no, keep going!”

Marinette teased her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Adrien’s smile put the sun to shame. “It’s refreshing to see someone so passionate about what they love! You're an amazing artist, Marinette, and you should embrace it and be proud of yourself.”

* * *

“You're an amazing artist, Marinette, and you should embrace it and be proud of yourself.”

It was true. As Marinette’s smile widened and she went on a long tangent about different kinds of stitches and the pros and cons of using gossamer silk versus rayon, and other terms he didn’t recognize, Adrien was engrossed in her movements. She spoke with her hands, waving them about in front of her and miming hand-stitching motions with lithe fingers, the tips riddled with tiny scars. Her expressions fascinated him, too, from severe concentration as she mimed to the exasperation she experienced when she was overloaded with commissions. It was so refreshing to see the variety of expressions a person could possess, when all Adrien was surrounded by was stoic faces of the people who ran his life.

“Most designs have inspirations, too, and you have to choose fabrics that better represent them,” Marinette was saying. She pulled her sketchbook from his lap and flipped to a page detailing a men’s grey and blue suit design featuring a feathered derby hat. “This one I got from a story a friend of mine told me.”

“Your friend told you a story about pigeons?”

She nodded. “He told me lots of made up stories. I think he would be a really good writer, with all the things he comes up with.”

“Is this the same friend you had a fight with?”

Her eyes saddened slightly. “Yeah. But it’s okay, we moved passed it.” She looked up at him, a soft smile curling her pink lips. “I took your advice. It helped.”

Adrien swallowed thickly, but returned her smile. “Glad I could help.”

Adrien vaguely remembered one of the stories he had told Ladybug when she had been sick, about the superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. Hadn’t one of his villains wanted to overrun Paris with pigeons? The connection hit him like a blow to the gut. Marinette kept talking, but Adrien could only stare, forgetting whatever percentage he was on and just letting the pieces fall into place.

 _Dark hair, blue eyes. Design. Friend. Pigeons._ One by one, the chips in Ladybug’s invisible mask fell away, and only bright Marinette was left in her place. He should probably stop staring, but all he could do was memorize the way her bangs fell across her eyes, the constellations that connected the freckles that danced across her nose, gentle hands that could also punch his lights out if they tried.

He wondered how red his face was, or how many palpitations a heart could take before exploding. He ran the numbers, and came to terms that he was dangerously close to exploding.

Adrien, for maybe the sixth time, couldn’t believe how stupid he was.

“Adrien? Are you okay?”

* * *

“Adrien? Are you okay?”

He was staring at her, jaw slightly ajar as if he had forgotten how to use it, eyes wide and unblinking. He was lost in whatever revelation he had just come across, but it was a little disconcerting the way he was so focused on her. He almost reminded her of a cat with its prey caught in its sights.

Only when she snapped her fingers in front of his face did he suddenly break out it, blinking rapidly and closing his mouth with a small click. He flushed a little at having been caught blatantly staring. “S-sorry, I just, oh wow, um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just, uh, thought of something really… amazing.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes a bit in confusion. “What’s amazing?”

She thought she heard a “You,” in the breeze but she might have just been overhearing the children as they ran past in a lively game of tag. “I—it’s nothing, I’ll tell you later. Oh, wow, would you look at the time!”

He leapt to his feet, visibly flustered. Marinette had a sudden sinking feeling in her chest as she recognized the obvious disinterest in her company. She didn’t meet his eyes as he rambled on about forgetting about a thing he had to do, and he was sorry that he couldn’t stay longer, or something like that.

He waved goodbye, and she mumbled something in response. When she looked up, he was gone, his form just turning the corner and dead on sprinting out of sight. Marinette heaved a deep breath. Was he embarrassed to be seen with her? Had he realized how stupid it was to talk to some stupid girl who was way out of his league? Marinette held her sketchbook tightly against her chest as if it would relieve the pressure from within.

No, she mustn’t jump to conclusions. Alya had a bad habit of seeing things when nothing was there. Notably back when she thought Chloe was a superhero in disguise just because she was a closet cosplayer. That had been a nasty incident, and Marinette didn’t want anything bad to come of a simple misunderstanding. Maybe Adrien really was telling the truth.

What on earth could have made him so nervous? Maybe she should call Chat Noir. He’s a guy, he’d know what other guys were thinking. She dug out her phone and dialed. When he didn’t pick up, she dialed Alya instead. And, naturally, the journalist was all too eager to assist Marinette in her boy troubles.

“I’ll be there in ten.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I visualize that you're looking fine  
> Feels so good when you come on the line.
> 
> -Beach Boys, "Had To Phone Ya"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback, and apologies for my lateness. I've been recently heavily involved in a large project with thelastpilot to create a Miraculous Dating Sim game! We have fanfiction writers, fanartists, programmers, and even voice casting auditions going on right now! Head over to @miraculous-rain on tumblr for information and updates on the game!
> 
> I also got some lovely fanart from peachgreenteelemonade and library-nymph!
> 
> http://the-noble-idiot.tumblr.com/post/145295527347/library-nymph-day-20-talk-to-me-i-recently  
> http://the-noble-idiot.tumblr.com/post/145283662217/peachgreenteelemonade-the-noble-idiot-so-i
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and here's the next chapter!

"So," Alya said, and leaned back against the bench. "Pretty Boy asked you out, praised you, and then skipped out."

"Well, it wasn't really 'asking out,' but, yeah, that's the gist." Marinette sighed, and took a sip of the cold lemonade Alya had brought.

She, Alya, and Nino – whom Alya had dragged along, much to the DJ's chagrin – reclined against the very same bench Marinette and Adrien had sat at just a half hour before. It had only taken the designer a couple minutes to describe her situation, albeit reluctant to let Nino in on her secret ("He's a guy, we need a guy's input on this too," Alya argued).

Alya stroked her nonexistent beard. "My guess is he had a pretty date with another girl and forgot about it."

Marinette felt her heart sink at the thought.

"Nah, man," Nino interjected, and lazily blew bubbles into the air around them. "This dude realized something about Marinette and was just too cowardly to mention it."

"What, that he's in love with her?" Alya scoffed. "Dude's only met her, what, three times?"

"Maybe," Nino shrugged. "Guys sometimes fall in love faster than girls."

Marinette shook her head. "I don't know, it didn't seem that way."

"What exactly did he say, again?"

Marinette shrugged. "Something like, 'Oh, look at the time, I have a thing I forgot to do, bye.' He was all nervous and flustered and he ran away like he couldn't get away fast enough."

Alya hummed thoughtfully.

* * *

_Oh shit, it's her. It's actually her. And I totally flaked, ran away like some stupid moron and now she probably thinks I hate her. What do I doooo?_

Adrien's mind was a runaway train with thoughts bouncing dangerously along the tracks. Hands in his hair, teeth gritted, he probably looked like he escaped from an asylum to the people who eyed him strangely as they passed on the sidewalk. At the moment, though, the only thing on his mind was dark hair, blue eyes, and a sunshine smile that lit up his world.

He could argue that he barely knew the girl. That talking on the phone for a year wasn't really enough to get to know a person. But he also felt drawn to Marinette, like a moth to flame, and he wanted so desperately to know her. He wanted to wrap her in a hug and memorize the feeling of her pressed against his chest, the scent of her perfume, the texture of her hair against his cheek. It was the only thing he wanted in that exact moment.

But he ran away. He left her sitting there so he could selfishly come to terms with his own revelation. He felt sick just thinking about it.

He had found out her identity. The one thing she never wanted him to know. He'd betrayed her trust, she couldn't know that he had discovered the one piece of information she had purposefully hidden from him. And she had every reason to hide it. And he'd gone and found her out… the thing he wanted most was the last thing she did, and the poisonous combination of guilt and exhilaration ate at his mind.

Adrien stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, disrupting the crowd around him and not caring. He squared his shoulders and took a deep, calming breath. Running away wouldn't do him any good. He had discovered her, and it was only fair that she knew him as well. Well, knew him as both Adrien Agreste _and_ Chat Noir as well anyway. He had to face this. He had to face _her._

Adrien spun on his heel and strode back towards the park, determination building in every step.

* * *

"Well whatever the reason is for, I'm gonna introduce his face to the grass when I meet him for making Mari sad," Alya declared, cracking her knuckles for emphasis. Nino gulped, knowing exactly how stubborn his almost-girlfriend could be when it came to decisions like this.

"That's not necessary," Marinette tried, but Alya would not be swayed.

"My Marinette deserves better than some no good -!"

"Marinette!"

At the sound of her name, all three of the teens turned to see Adrien power walking back towards them, arms swinging at his sides as if it would make him move faster. The sheer determination in his expression was one Marinette had not seen before, but it was a look that, somehow, suited him well.

"Is that him?" Alya asked, her eyes following every movement that he made.

"Yeah," Marinette replied. "That's him."

"Girl, you told me he was cute, you didn't say he was _hot."_

"Ahem," Nino cleared his throat.

"Oh, c'mon babe, I have a favorite piece of candy but that doesn't mean I can't go in the candy store."

"Ew, Alya."

Adrien finally came to stand directly before them, his chest heaving from exertion. Marinette tried not to think about it. They faced each other for a few seconds, locked in some kind of stand off, until Alya finally elbowed her directly in the ribs. Marinette jerked to attention, ignoring the slight pain in her side.

"Adrien?" she asked, and stood to better look him in the eye. He paid no mind to Nino and Alya beside her, only having eyes for the girl he had apparently come for. There was a lingering sense of regret in his expression, as if he hadn't meant to leave her so unexpectedly. It didn't look right on his face.

"I need to borrow Marinette," he said, and her friends understood. Alya and Nino took their leave, Alya giving Marinette and encouraging squeeze on the shoulder as she passed. Marinette suspected Alya and Nino would find a decent hiding place to quietly observe, but her attention was divided and at the moment, Adrien was at the forefront of it. He and Marinette were left alone in the park as before, only now the game had changed.

"Marinette," Adrien began, and refused to look away from her face. "I've only met with you a couple times. But I feel as if have known you for longer than that. A year and two months, to be precise."

"Adrien…"

* * *

"Adrien…"

God, he loved it when she said his name.

"Please, let me finish. Marinette… this is not easy for me to admit. At all. But it's something you need to hear. I've broken your trust."

Marinette's expression became wary. "My trust?"

Adrien nodded. "You put your trust in me and I did the one thing you make explicitly clear I was never to do."

"Adrien, I don't understand…"

"I promise it was an accident and I just want you to know that I never imagined it would come to light this way."

"You're kind of scaring me…"

"Here."

Adrien shut his big mouth and gestured for Marinette to sit back on the bench. Her expression was nervous and perhaps betrayed, her hand inching toward her purse. Adrien stuck to his guns, and fished his phone from his pocket.

If he was wrong… his friendship with Marinette was over. If he was wrong, she would write him off as a pervert creep and his father would have his head for having that on his spotless record. If he was wrong… Adrien didn't know if he could live with that.

But if he was right… if he was right, would that be any better? Would she reject him, knowing who he really was? Refuse to talk to him anymore after her broke her trust? No. No, he mustn't let himself get caught up in doubt. He'd made a decision and he was going to stick with it. Consequences and all.

Adrien's fingers were shaking as he finally pulled up Ladybug's contact information and pressed the call button.

The first few seconds of dead air between them was agonizing. Adrien didn't know if he should look at his phone or at Marinette, who was staring worriedly at him, so he settled for the grass and strained his ears for any telltale sound of a ringtone. A whispering breeze, a child's delightful laugh, the languid flapping of butterfly wings.

And there it was.

A lively tune that jingled from her purse. Marinette reached for the device and smiled when she saw whom it was. "Sorry, Adrien, I need to take this," she said, and stood, moving a few steps away from privacy.

"Hey, Chat. I called you earlier."

"Hey, Chat. I called you earlier."

The lines overlapped one another, the real thing and digital playback in near-perfect sync. Adrien's mouth went dry.

Marinette didn't appear to notice immediately. "Chat? Are you there? Did you butt-dial me or something?"

"Chat? Are you there? Did you butt-dial me or something?"

"No," Adrien said thickly. "I didn't."

At that, she turned, phone still pressed against her ear. Her gaze was questioning, confused, and she eyed him strangely until he held aloft his phone for her to see the ladybug emoticon on his screen.

She looked from the phone to him and back again, to her phone, to his, to him again. The gears clicked into place, and her mouth parted in a barely-audible gasp.

"Chat?"

Adrien cocked his head and tried to play cool. "My lady."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More amazing fanart by peachgreenteelemonade, this time of the Bus Scene! Check it out on tumblr: http://the-noble-idiot.tumblr.com/tagged/talk-to-me

Marinette was unsure exactly how long she stood there, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before she had to sit back down and properly gather her thoughts. Adrien – _Chat Noir –_ watched her with his eyebrows furrowed and teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He passed his phone from hand to hand like a nervous reminder, a symbol of their spotty connection. He was aware of her inner conflict and she could sense him fighting back his own.

Marinette wanted to be angry with him. He said so himself: he broke her trust and figured out who she was against her wishes. Never again could she feel that same level of comfort as she had with Chat, that sense of grounding that only an anonymous conversation could give her.

“The bus…”

“Bus?”

She met his strained gaze. “On the bus. When we first met – physically. I called you. And you were right behind me.”

“Oh, right.” Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “I turned my phone off so my manager wouldn’t find me ditching.”

“And at the café…”

Both of them winced, briefly remembering the reason they were there in the first place. “We didn’t stand each other up.”

Adrien choked out a laugh. “That was actually when I started to put the pieces together about you. Didn’t hit me until you mentioned the stories I made up about us.”

A glimmer of a smile passed across her face at the memory, before she sobered up once more. “We argued,” Marinette continued, and slowly pieced together each of her and Adrien’s physical interactions, suddenly able to remember every detail, every word passed between them like it was written out in the air before her. “About you.”

“Me?” Adrien hadn’t quiet gotten up to speed, apparently.

Marinette closed her eyes, her heart pounding against her chest, her mind screaming at her not to say it. But, her rational side said, he was honest with her. He admitted that he found her, openly, apologetically. She could see his sincerity in his eyes, the set of his shoulders, the nervous fumbling of his hands.

It was only fair that she returned the favor, and be honest as well. However it turned out would forever change the nature of their relationship. Anonymous, or not. Though, Marinette thought meekly, their relationship was already in hot water as it was. Fresh from a reveal and she was about to dump this on him.

“The guy that Chat and I had a fight about… was you.”

* * *

“The guy that Chat and I had a fight about… was you.”

A part of Adrien wanted to laugh. She was joking, right? Pulling his leg. No one ever _liked_ Adrien. They liked him for his body, his money, his face, and the products he could sell. Not for his personality, and certainly not for his _amazing_ sense of humor. But the redness that stained her cheeks and her averted eyes told him all he needed to know.

“So the guy you were crushing on… had a thing for… was me?”

“Is.”

“What?”

Marinette swallowed, her face turning possibly redder. He could see how much she struggled to get the words past her lips. “Not ‘was.’ ‘Is.’ The guy I was crushing on _is_ you. Present tense.”

“Oh.”

Really? “Oh”? _That's_ the best he could come up with? _Oh!?_ Adrien wanted to find a dark hole and hide there for the rest of his miserable teenage life. The sudden rejected look on Marinette’s face said loud and clear that she thought he was turning her down, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

“No no no no!” He tried to reconcile, waving his hands as if it would literally clear the air between them. “It’s not ‘Oh’ as in ‘that’s bad,’ it’s more of an ‘Oh, I didn’t expect that’ and that’s probably not a good explanation either, geez I’m sorry, I’ve never had to do this before…”

“Do what before…?” Marinette said, her tone a little harsh but Adrien tried not to let it get to him. She was hurt, off her guard, distressed. She had every right to be short with him. “Have girls throwing themselves at you or admitting their crush on you?”

“Ack…” Adrien rubbed his hands down his face. “Well, yes, that has happened before.”

“So why is it so hard for you!?” Marinette said, louder this time, and Adrien could see tiny signs that she was on the verge of frustrated tears. “Just reject me and get it over with.”

Reject her? Why on earth would he do that? He’d been in love with Ladybug since… since as long as he could remember. And then he remembered that Marinette was Ladybug, and though he had felt a kind of pull towards her since they met, he had never really thought of Marinette in _that way_ before.

But he did now, knowing that they were one of the same was short circuiting his neurotic connections. So he opened his mouth.

“I’ve never had a girl I had feelings for confess to me!”

* * *

 

“I’ve never had a girl I had feelings for confess to me!”

Marinette stopped, her angry tears suddenly refusing to fall. She was pretty sure she hadn’t heard that correctly, just some trick her mind was playing on her. But no, that was definitely Adrien’s voice, Adrien’s face, Adrien’s lips moving to form the appropriate sounds. Nope. Definitely not tricks.

Marinette wants to be happy. She wants to leap to her feet, for Adrien to lift her up and spin her in a circle like they do in the movies. She wants to kiss him right there, wipe that strange mix of nervous and pained expression from his face. But she couldn’t. She was frozen to this bench, unable to find the words to speak or the sounds to make. She could only stare, mouth slightly open and eyes misty with unshed frustration.

Adrien moved first, both hands rising to cover his rapidly reddening face. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into his palms, barely audible. “I totally didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that, this is a super emotional moment and I totally just made it worse.”

Marinette swallowed and kicked her numb tongue into action. “It’s not worse…”

“It really is…” Adrien sat down hard on the grass in front of her, his legs apparently giving out on him. “I’m just causing you all kinds of trouble today.”

Marinette was floored. This was her Chat Noir? Her mysterious flirtatious anonymous kitty was this supermodel with social ineptitude? If she was expecting a sixty year old pervert, this was the exact opposite. He’d just worked up the immense amount of courage it must have taken to confront her about his discovery and then accidentally confess his feelings for her.

He liked Ladybug, though. He liked the sassy spitfire on the other side of an anonymous phone call.

And she liked Adrien Agreste, a boy she knew almost nothing about besides his name, occupation, and barely a glimpse into his questionable home life.

How could either of them really know the other enough to say that they had feelings for one another?

But, Marinette also reasoned, what bad could come from learning about the other?

“Hey, hey shhh.”

* * *

“Hey, hey shhh.”

Warm arms pulled him into an embrace. Adrien didn’t fight it, and allowed Marinette to slide to the grass beside him, his thighs bracketing her knees as she knelt and pulled his face to the soft dip of her neck and chest and her arms around the back of her shoulders. A soft weight settled on the crown of his head, dark hair tickling the tips of his ears.

Here he was, red in the face and practically wishing for a freak lightning bolt to strike him down, and Marinette was the one comforting him when he didn’t deserve it.

He dumped so much on her within the last several minutes and she was the one who was strong enough to take it and run. He didn’t deserve to have a girl like Marinette like him like that.

They remained that way for as long as he needed, slumped together until Adrien finally felt like his face had returned to its normal shade, though still perhaps a bit tinged in the cheeks. They moved apart, Adrien quite unwillingly, and sat across from each other, each fighting embarrassed smiles and the urge to run.

“Hi,” Marinette said to break the awkward silence. She raised a hand and waved cheerfully. “I’m Marinette. I go to Francois Dupont for lyceé and I want to study fashion design.”

Adrien wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this, until he realized what she was doing. She was starting over. Wiping the slate, turning to a clean page, whatever the phrase she was reintroducing herself as Marinette, _and_ Ladybug. It was the perfect solution. Rather than try to combine two completely different people into one, simply reacquaint yourself with them from the very beginning.

Adrien’s heart swelled until his chest felt too small to contain it.

“My parents are bakers, my favorite color is pink, and I have this secret best friend that I tell everything. He’s goofy and flirty, but he’s also sincere, and I care a lot about him.”

“Hi,” Adrien smiled, his grin impossibly wider. “I’m Adrien, and I’ve been homeschooled all my life. I never got to have a normal childhood, because my dad is Gabriel Agreste and I model for his fashion company.”

Marinette’s smile was warmer than the sun that beat down on his back.

“My favorite color is blue, if I had a cat I’d name him Plagg, and I have this secret best friend that I tell everything. She’s weird and snarky, but she’s also intelligent and funny, and I care a lot about her.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Adrien.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marinette.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Been a while. I've been busy working this summer, in addition to working on Miraculous Rain and other real life activities but I'm here now!
> 
> Enjoy it! :)

 

For the next two weeks, Marinette consumed every spare minute Adrien had.

Though things remained… mostly… platonic between them, their relationship had taken leaps and bounds into territory only seen from afar, before that day. What was once witty banter had slowly evolved into _flirty,_ a reciprocation from Marinette that Adrien had not been mentally prepared for.

“Do you want to hang out?” Adrien had asked once, looking for an escape from his grueling schedule.

Marinette had hummed thoughtfully, and he could hear the smirk in her voice when she said, “Your place or mine?”

They had ended up playing video games and pigging out on chips and dip at Marinette’s, but Adrien remembered clearly bolting ramrod straight, the blood in his body flowing straight to either one of two places. She had laughed as if knowing exactly what was going through his mind, and he was slightly mortified and yet also strangely… excited, in both senses of the word.

Adrien liked this new Ladybug, this Marinette. She was still the confident and sassy Ladybug but also the kind and fiercely independent Marinette. She returned his flirtations but was always too nervous to really go beyond that. He knew that she felt the same towards him as he did towards her, but a little feeling nagged in the back of his mind that maybe – just maybe – she _didn’t._

He knew it was going to eat at him until he found out, so the next time they found each other on the phone late at night, Adrien with his covers pulled up over his head and burrowed in the warmth of his sheets, he ventured a question.

“So, Marinette?”

“Hm?”

Her voice was alert but laced with weariness, and he could tell she was going to fall asleep soon.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go on a date Friday?”

* * *

 “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go on a date Friday?”

Marinette was suddenly wide awake, her eyes widening. She threw off the comforter and sat bolt upright, her legs suddenly very jittery.

“A-a date?”

“Yeah, I mean –“ Adrien mumbled something, and Marinette could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to backtrack. “If you want to, it’s just I have Friday off and I’m not really doing anything and I was thinking that… yknow… if you’re not doing anything either…”

Marinette felt a smile tug against her lip. Since their bonding moment in the park, Marinette had been too nervous to act. She’d told Adrien that she still needed time, but that wasn’t entirely true. She was ready to fall straight into his arms if that was what it took to smack a label on his forehead that said, _If found, please return to Marinette._

She was just worried that perhaps things would move too fast, for him, and that, caught up in the heat of the moment, he’d soon come to realize she wasn’t the same person he knew, even if she had presented herself as, well, herself.

But it had been weeks since that day, and perhaps the sign she had been waiting for was simply for Adrien to make the first move. The lingering feeling in the back of her mind that whispered, _Maybe he doesn’t really love you,_ had rung in her ears, until tonight when it was extinguished by a much louder voice. The louder voice flowed like honey against her ear, slow and sluggish but oh so sweet, rambling on and on but she could listen to that voice for hours and not notice the time gone by.

“F-Friday…”

Marinette managed the word, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying to calm the sudden heat and intensity that pounded against the inside of her ribs.

Adrien stopped talking, and she missed the sound already. She knew from experience, however, how soothing it was in reality.

“Friday sounds good.”

* * *

“Friday sounds good.”

It took a few seconds for the words to kick in before an elated grin was pulling at Adrien’s lips. “Really?”

“Hm? Oh yeah. There’s a, um, there’s a carnival in town, I think, and I had been meaning to go. With Alya, my friend, but she just got a boyfriend, too, and I think they might go together anyway, so…”

It was Ladybug’s voice from Marintte’s mouth, and Marinette’s words with Ladybug’s smooth tone. It was Ladybug agreeing to a date with him, and Marinette’s bashful face. Adrien’s chest felt too small to properly contain the swelling of his heart.

By the time Friday arrived, Adrien was a jumbled mess of nerves. Trading a day to privileges to be allowed on the excursion, he scrambled through his closet to find something appropriate to wear. Nathalie had knocked twice in an attempt to inform him of his curfew but Adrien was too occupied to really pay her any mind. By the time he had settled on something he was nearly late, flying out the door.

Marinette was waiting for him outside the bakery when he finally skidded to a halt, struggling to control his heavy breathing and straightening the collar of his shirt. She turned at the sound, and when she turned to smile at him, Adrien lost all the breath he had tried so hard to regain.

She was dressed in a pastel pinks and whites, a patterned sundress and sandals that fit snugly in all the right places. Her hair was tied back into her usual pig tails, red ribbons trailing from the ties Her face betrayed the slight traces of make up but he could still see the constellations of freckles that twinkled across the bridge of her nose, put only to shame by the brilliance of her blue eyes. She was radiant, and Adrien swallowed.

“Hey,” she said by way of greeting, and he eked out a “Hey,” in return.

“You, um…”

She tilted her head, the corner of her lips turning up into a smile. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is it too much?” She looked down at herself and picked at the hem of the dress. “I only made it a couple days ago so it may not actually be that good it was kind of a rush job but I saw the fabric and thought, ‘I have to make something out of that,’ and oh my god I’m rambling now but I thought it was a little too dressy for a date…”

“Marinette,” Adrien laughed, finally locating his voice in the midst of her distracted words. He placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned in a little until their heights were relatively equal. “You look beautiful.”

A pink flush dusted her cheeks, and she smiled. Her eyes averted from his and took in his own casual dress shirt and pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and comfortable walking shoes on his feet.

“Not so bad yourself.”

* * *

“Not so bad yourself.”

She wasn’t lying. While Adrien was an overall good looking (read: supermodel-for-a-reason _hot_ ) guy, she had not prepared herself for the way Adrien presented himself standing before her, large hands on her shoulders and gentle smile making his kind eyes crinkle at the edges. How on _earth_ had she managed to land herself a date with a _supermodel,_ son of Gabriel Agreste of all people?

She remembered Alya practically screeching at her through the phone, congratulating her on landing an otherwise unattainable man and demanding to help her get ready before Marinette reminded her that she had her own date with Nino to take care of. That had sobered Alya up immediately, before she went into her own tangent about what _she_ should wear and the girls had ended up staying up late into the night gushing over their respective dates.

“We’re meeting Alya and Nino at the carnival,” Marinette said, pulling her phone from her clutch to check for any messages. “They’re supposed to text when they arrive.”

“Then we’d better get going then,” Adrien said, and offered his arm to her.

Marinette felt her heart pound against her ribs at the gesture, but she settled for instead threading her fingers through his. She memorized the way his eyes flicked from her face to their joined hands and back to her again, wide and confused but also happy and content. She burned the image to the back of her eyelids.

When they began to walk, Marinette cast one glance back at the bakery, unsurprised to find her parents peeking through the window, her camera-wielding father flashing her double thumbs up and her mother smiling proudly. Marinette turned back around again, embarrassment a nice color to patch her dress.

“What is it?” Adrien asked.

“N-nothing,” she said, and met his gaze. “Just happy to be here with you. Now let’s go to the carnival!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any errors, I finished it quickly because I wanted to get it out to you guys!
> 
> Next chapter will be the last, so look forward to it and hopefully I'll have it out to you sooner!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr as @the-noble-idiot for updates and other cute prompts and Miraculous Ladybug goodness.


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